


Cold, Always Cold

by we_all_fall



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha Lucifer (Supernatural), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Angst, Bath Sex, Blindfolds, Blood As Lube, Blood Kink, Canon-Typical Violence, Crying Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester Being a Jerk, Domestic Violence, Exhibitionism, Gabriel (Supernatural) Needs Brain Bleach, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Kidnapping, Light Bondage, Lucifer was never in the Cage, M/M, Morning Sickness, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Sam Winchester, One Night Stands, Protective Lucifer (Supernatural), Rape/Non-con Elements, Resurrection, Rough Sex, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, Sam Winchester's Demonic Powers, Smut, Submissive Sam Winchester, Torture, Twincest, Unplanned Pregnancy, Vampires, Wall Sex, consensual samifer, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-11-27 17:01:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 32,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18196910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/we_all_fall/pseuds/we_all_fall
Summary: —incomplete and abandoned—Sam didn't expect much when he picked up a hot, intense alpha for a one night stand.He didn't expect his one night stand to be an angel, much less the devil himself.And he didn't expect to find something growing inside of him...But Winchesters don't always get what they expect.Note: The non-con isn't Sam/Lucifer.





	1. 17 Days Earlier

**Author's Note:**

> Um, I've never posted smut here before. I dunno if it's any good. I've never posted smut quite like this anywhere, or written it at all for that matter. So if it's bad, can you please tell me why it's bad, not just how terrible it is? Thanks.

Blue eyes. Cold, intense. Icy. 

    Chapped lips. Cold, always cold. Cold lips, hot kisses. It was burning. 

    Pulling on short blond hair. Wiry, but soft somehow. Short. Messy, now. 

Lips again. Cold lips. Traveling, kissing. Hot kisses. Warmth and cold. 

Hands, there were hands. Too tight, they left bruises. He wanted to be closer. He wanted to feel. 

He was talking, begging. He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore. 

Hands gripped tighter, it  _ hurt _ . Cold hands, burning pain. He wanted more. 

Cold lips on warm lips. Chapped on soft. Burning kisses. Hot or cold, he couldn’t say. It was burning. 

Hands. Clatter, a belt buckle. Pulling, fabric dragging. Harshness. 

There wasn’t any more fabric. 

A cold finger against his hole. Cold. Sticky liquid. Soft rubbing, the flick of a finger. 

More. More, please more. He needed more. 

Pressure. Openness. Something  _ in _ him. Exposure. Cold. Vulnerability. 

The cold finger wriggled around, feeling. 

He wanted to be good enough. He wanted it to stay. Nothing ever stayed. 

The finger pulled out slickly. 

He felt so empty. He wanted to be close. He needed someone inside of him. He needed. 

The finger pushed harshly back in. It was cold. There was a second one, too. It was cold and it burned. Burning, always burning. Burning cold. 

The fingers pulled away, leaving him empty and broken, and then pushed back in, filling him and putting him back together. They pushed in deeper. They moved fast. They pushed and searched, harshly, carelessly. 

It wasn’t enough. He could hear himself begging, but he wasn’t aware of trying to say anything. He tugged against the handcuffs, but they were strong and held his hands up high where he couldn’t reach anything. He was desperate. All he got was the slick entrance of a third finger. 

Cold. Wet. Hot. It was slick and moist and hard and icy. 

Three fingers thrust in and out of him. He wanted more. He wanted. He needed. Deeper, more. 

The fingers slid out completely and then pushed back in hard, slamming in painfully deeper than they’d hit yet. They hit something deep inside him. Exploding pleasure. Spots on his vision. 

The fingers pressed and rubbed over that spot. It was exploding. He was exploding. It was burning, burning. 

He’d nearly cum. A hand had stopped him. He wanted to cum, but he was grateful he hadn’t. He could still feel so much more full, and he wanted that. He needed to feel close to someone. It had been so long since he’d been even this full. He needed. 

There were fingers rubbing over the opening. Pressing. Cold. He was so empty. He wanted. He wanted. 

There was something that wasn’t a finger nudging his hole. 

He was empty. Empty. He wanted that in him. He was begging. It was wet and cold and empty and he wanted. 

A cock suddenly thrust hard into him. 

It spread him open and filled him up. Helpless. Vulnerable. Complete. Full. Wanting. 

Before he could finish adjusting the cock pulled mostly out and slammed roughly back in. Thrust. Thrust. Thrust. 

The pace was fast and every stroke was hard and deep. The angle kept changing, and he couldn’t keep up. Bruising hands pushed his hips down into the mattress. 

He was open and helpless and there was so much taking. Always taking. 

Hands pushed his hips farther apart, more open. He was so open. It was so deep. He was full, overfull. 

Cold lips on warm lips. Hot, grounding kisses. He wanted this. He wanted more. He wanted to be taken. Chapped lips. Pressing, harsh kisses. Warmth. Pleasure. 

Thrusting. Heat. Stickiness. Openness. 

The rubbing, dirty pain of the thrusting worked him towards cumming. Heat built. There was more thrusting. He was so exposed. 

Pleasure. Heat. Thrusts against his prostate. 

He felt worked up. He wanted to touch. It was hard that he couldn’t. He pulled against the handcuffs. His wrists were sore from tugging. 

Hands on his cock. Cold. Fingers jerked him off in counter rhythm to the thrusts into his hole. He was open and used. It was cold. There was so much heat. 

The fingers only stroked his cock a few times before he was cumming. His eyes rolled back, and he didn’t have the strength even to scream. He gasped out his orgasm and lay limply. 

The cock up his ass kept pounding without even a break in the harsh rhythm. 

With the heat gone it was cold. So cold. He was dazed and high from cumming, but the cold made him pay attention. How was it so cold? 

The thrusts were erratic. Hard. Shallow. Deep. Light. Rough. Right on his prostate. Shallow. They were rapid and wild in a way that made him feel fuller than before. He felt so open and taken and used. 

The cock inside him exploded with a rush of warmth. Everything else was cold, but cum was warm. It didn’t burn. It filled him, but it didn’t burn and he loved it. There were some weak thrusts, and then a body on top of him, pressing down. 

Breathing. His own ragged breaths, and some steadier ones. Cool breath on his face. Cold lips. Gentle kisses. It hadn’t been gentle before. 

    Harsh kisses. Teeth on his lips. A trickle of blood. 

He tugged a bit on the handcuffs. Pain. His wrists were tender. 

The body rolled away from him. A cloth wiped his cum off of him. He’d been too dazed to feel it was even there. 

A long, fierce press of lips against his. He was weak. There was no way he could meet that. It was cold and hot, and he surrendered to it. 

He was open, exposed and satisfied. 

 


	2. Now

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanation of how this story is au:   
> -Jake didn't kill Sam, so Dean never sold his soul  
> -There isn't an apocalypse  
> -There are no true vessels  
> -Lucifer isn't Caged
> 
> This takes place in the summer between seasons two and three.

“Sam!” 

Dean was yelling. Why was he yelling? 

“We’ve got to skip town, now!” Dean yelled, “I ganked the shapeshifter, but the cops think I killed that guy! C’mon.” 

Sam forced his eyes open. He was so tired. “OK,” he mumbled, sitting up. His stomach didn’t like that. “Oh,” he groaned, clamping his hand over his mouth to keep from throwing up all over the comforter. 

Dean paused in his race to pack everything up. “You ok?” 

Sam ran for the bathroom. The contents of his stomach all ended up in the toilet. 

“You get food poisoning from all that salad?” Dean asked. 

Sam wiped his mouth with toilet paper. He flushed the toilet and forced himself to his feet. “Just a stomach bug,” he mumbled, pushing past Dean and rinsing his mouth out with tap water. The tap water tasted funny, but it was better than vomit. 

“You alright to hit the road, Sammy?” Dean asked, a bit concerned. 

“It’s Sam,” Sam protested, throwing on some clothes and getting ready to head out the door. 

“Bitch,” Dean grumbled. 

“Jerk,” Sam retorted. 

Dean turned in the motel key cards, and Sam and Dean got in the Impala and left. Sam felt car sick all that morning, a relatively new problem for him. He’d grown up on the road, and the motion was usually familiar and soothing. But he just felt sick and exhausted. 

“Are we far enough away to stop for a few minutes?” Sam asked. 

Dean looked him over worriedly. Sam hoped he wouldn't go all mother hen like he did whenever Sam got badly hurt or sick. 

“I guess,” Dean said finally, “What d’you want?” 

“Maybe a grocery store?” Sam asked, “Ginger would be nice.” 

“Ginger? Your tummy still bothering you?” 

“Yes,” Sam grumped, rubbing his face, “What do think I want ginger for?”

“I dunno,” Dean said, “Maybe you health nut types just like the flavor?” 

“Just find a grocery store.” 

..

..

That night, at a new crappy motel room in a new town with a new case, Sam found blood in his underwear. He wasn’t sure what to do with that. He’d had nasty cramps for the past several hours, too. Was something wrong with him? 

He did some research and came up with one thing. Pregnancy. His symptoms fit, and he’d had sex a little over two weeks ago. The timing was right. He’d been so caught up in the moment he hadn’t paid attention, but he couldn’t remember there being a condom. 

Oh, no. It hadn’t been his heat. He knew omegas could get pregnant outside of heats, but it didn’t happen very often and he didn’t think to worry about it because it was just the one time. And maybe he wasn’t pregnant. He could still be sick with some weird illness that caused stomach cramps, anal bleeding and nausea. It didn’t have to be pregnancy. 

But if it was, how was he going to keep hunting? As a tall, powerful omega he could get away with posing as an FBI agent and with work people would respect him, but a pregnant omega? Everyone would just see him as a victim or someone to protect. Pregnant omegas were mostly well treated, but nobody listened to them and nobody would approve of him working. He’d be expected to stay at home, take care of himself and get ready for the baby. 

And what was he going to do with the baby, if there was one? Have it adopted? His heart sunk at that idea. His own father had been terrible and he didn’t think he’d do much better as he didn’t know the first thing about kids, but if there was a baby growing inside of him it was his child and he didn’t want to give that up. He wanted to keep his baby. He didn’t know if that was possible and he was sure hunting was the worst possible life for a kid, but- but- his baby. He had to keep his baby, even if it meant quitting hunting and trying to start a normal life. 

But first Sam needed to find out for sure whether or not there was a baby. He popped open his laptop and did some quick research on pregnancy tests. It looked like it was recommended he wait at least nineteen days before taking the test to get an accurate result, but seventeen days would probably be fine. It was only two days early. He ran out to a nearby store to grab a pregnancy test. 

“Whatcha buy, Sammy?” Dean asked when Sam got back to the motel room twenty minutes later. 

Sam had prepared for Dean to potentially question him. He threw Dean some pie he’d bought as a distraction. “It’s Sam, jerk.” 

“Bitch,” Dean said fondly, looking for a fork. 

Sam slipped into the bathroom with the pregnancy test. He felt nervous doing this. He was pretty sure he was pregnant, but it would feel more real if the test confirmed it. He was trying to hope he wasn’t pregnant, but he was honestly hoping he was. He hadn’t wanted a kid until he was suddenly faced with the possibility that he might have one. However impractical it might be, he wanted to be pregnant. He wasn’t sure what was wrong with him. 

He peed on the stick and waited for the time to be up. It seemed to drag on forever. By the time the test was ready Sam was a mess, chewing on his fingernails and struggling to keep from hyperventilating. There was a plus sign. 

Sam’s head spun dizzily. It was hard to breathe. He wasn’t sure he could handle this. He was pregnant. He’d had one one night stand once, and now he was pregnant. He didn’t even know the baby’s father’s last name. Just ‘Luc’. But he did have a phone number. He wanted to call Luc, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to explain anything right now. Luc hadn’t seemed like the sort of guy who’d be patient with his one night stand from two weeks ago calling him to stammer incoherently. Sam needed to at least try to get his wits about him before that conversation. 

Talking to Dean probably wouldn't help, but Sam couldn’t hide in the bathroom all day. He opened the door and walked out hesitantly. Dean was still munching on the pie. Sam must’ve taken less time than he’d thought. 

“Hey Sam,” Dean mumbled around his mouthful, “You ok?” 

Sam shrugged. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean demanded, motherly instincts from practically raising Sam making him instantly worried. 

“I’m fine,” Sam said weakly, trying to keep his voice from shaking. 

“Sam,” Dean said, voice serious, “You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?” 

“I haven’t,” Sam insisted, brushing away tears he didn’t remember shedding. He sat down heavily and buried his face in his hands. “I’m pregnant.” 

Dean didn’t say anything for a moment. Then: “Son of a bitch!” 

“It’s Luc’s,” Sam said, “Remember the ghost in Beatty, Nevada a couple weeks ago? I ran into Luc when I was researching at the library.”

“You let some hotheaded alpha get you pregnant?!” Dean wailed. 

Sam scowled at him. “So I forgot the condom once! It’s not like it was my heat or anything. I didn’t expect this to happen.” 

“Well, it happened,” Dean snapped, “What are we doing about it?” 

“What is there to do?” Sam asked, “I’ll call him and maybe he’ll want to be part of the baby’s life. I can take some time off hunting when my due date’s close, and we’ll figure the rest out from there.” 

“You’re not planning to keep it?!” 

“Of course I’m keeping my baby! I can’t kill her!” 

“It’s just a bunch of cells, Sam,” Dean said harshly, “We’re dealing with the demons from the hell gate. We can’t afford to have you out of commission for a bunch of worthless cells!” 

“How can you say that?” Sam demanded, “She’s  _ my baby. _ I’d rather die than hurt her.” 

“Sam, it’s  _ not _ a baby,” Dean said. 

Sam ran out of the motel for some air. It was eighty outside with minimal wind, and he was soon sticky with sweat. He walked for a ways before settling down on the roadside. It was quiet and pretty there. 

He wasn’t sure how he’d expected Dean to react, but it wasn’t like that. There was no way Sam was giving up this baby. He pressed his hand to his stomach, even though he knew there wouldn't be a baby bump for months. There was a baby there, growing inside of him. He loved her already. 

Sam pulled out his phone to call Luc. He remembered putting Luc’s number in his phone, so he just scrolled through his contacts until he reached Luc’s name. He stared at the number, not knowing whether to press call or not. He couldn’t guess how Luc would react. He’d been harsh and cold in a regal way, but he’d also been tender and attentive. What if he was married? Sam would’ve smelled a bond, but some people got married without them. Or what if Luc was bonded and Sam hadn’t realised? There were ways to hide bonds. Or what if Luc simply didn’t want a child and had no interest in Sam? It seemed likely. 

Sam snapped his phone shut. He couldn’t call. But was it really fair to not even let Luc know he had a child? Sam knew if he was an alpha and he got an omega pregnant he would definitely want to know, even if it had only been a one night stand. He didn’t know if he could handle another person telling him to get rid of the baby right now, but he owed Luc this. At least it should be easier to hear something like that from a near stranger than his own brother. He still couldn’t believe Dean wanted to insist Sam let his own child die. His eyes filled with tears again, and he took a moment to compose himself. Mood swings weren’t supposed to start this early in a pregnancy, right? He didn’t know. 

He opened his phone and flipped back to Luc’s name in his contacts. His finger hovered over the call button. Taking a deep breath to prepare himself, Sam pressed it. The phone began to ring. And ring. It was pretty anticlimactic. 

Luc finally picked up on the last ring. 

“Hello?” 

Sam hesitated. 

“Hey, is anybody there?” Luc sounded annoyed. 

“It’s Sam,” Sam said finally, “We spent a night together a few weeks ago, remember?” Luckily, he managed to keep his voice from shaking. This was such an overwhelming day. He’d pick even a wendigo or demon hunt over this. 

“Yeah, if you’re calling for a repeat experience I’m busy.” 

Sam could tell Luc was about to hang up. 

“No! No, it’s not that. It’s just I- I-” Sam was having an embarrassingly hard time finishing his sentence. “Luc, I’m pregnant.” 

There was a long silence. 

“You’re pregnant,” Luc repeated finally, “With  _ my _ kid?” 

“Yeah.” 

“You’re sure,” Luc asked. 

“The last time I had sex, not counting the time with you, was three months ago,” Sam said, “I think I’d know if I’d been pregnant that long.” 

“OK,” Luc said, exhaling slowly, “Wow. I was not expecting this, Sam.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t either.” 

Luc exhaled again. “Where are you?” 

“I- travel,” Sam explained hesitantly, “I’m nowhere near Nevada.” 

“Yeah, not what I asked,” Luc said harshly, commandingly,  “Where are you, Sam?” 

“Tennessee,” Sam answered obediently, “Woodbury.” 

“And how are you?” Luc asked. 

“I’m good,” Sam lied automatically, “It’s sunny here. How are you?” 

    “Be honest, not polite. I’m not making small talk.” 

“OK, fine,” Sam said, “I’m having a bad day. I’m a pregnant, unmated omega who’s on his third conversation with his baby’s dad. I have no idea how to be a parent. My job won’t work with raising a child. My brother wants me to get an abortion. He’s my only family and I live with him, and I have no idea how to survive this. Happy?” Sam wasn’t sure if he was furious or about to start crying. Maybe both. 

“Will you still be in Woodbury tomorrow?” Luc asked. There was no indication he cared at all in his voice. 

“Probably,” Sam said miserably. 

“Where are you staying?” 

“Um, the Star Motel,” Sam said, “Room 18. But if Dean and I fight again I might not be there.” 

“I’ll call when I’m in the area, then,” Luc said, “Four o’clock.” 

“Wait, you’re actually coming here?” Sam asked. 

“Sam,” Luc said in a ‘patient’ voice, “Why do you think I bothered asking where you’re staying?” 

“Right, but,” Sam started confusedly, “You’re just gonna fly here?” 

“Exactly,” Luc said, amused. He hung up. 

Sam stared at the phone for a moment. That had been a weird conversation. At least it had gone pretty well. Luc didn’t seem angry or upset that he had a child, and he wanted to see Sam enough to get a last minute flight from wherever he was to Tennessee. Sam didn’t know where Luc lived, but he couldn’t imagine it was Beatty. Maybe Las Vegas, but it felt like Luc was just in the area and happened to run into Sam. He could be from anywhere. 

..

..

The library had already closed, and nothing else was really in walking distance. Sam wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe he should call Dean or check his messages? He had three missed calls and a voicemail from Dean he’d been ignoring. After a moment he decided to listen to the voicemail. 

_ “Sammy. Get back to the motel. It’s late; I’m getting worried. We can talk about this. We’ll figure something out.”  _

Sam sighed. He was tired, too tired to fight Dean on this. He couldn’t go back to the motel room if it would mean a conversation about his baby, which would turn into an argument, and then a fight. He wasn’t giving up his baby, and Dean wouldn't be willing to accept a solution that involved Sam even temporarily quitting hunting. They both knew that if Sam made it back out he would stay out. 

He didn’t have anywhere else to go, so he called Dean. Dean picked up almost immediately. 

“Sammy!” 

“It’s Sam,” Sam said for the millionth time. 

“Where are you?” Dean asked. His words seemed a bit slurred. “You still set on keeping that thing?” 

“That ‘thing’ is my baby!” Sam was an inch away from hanging up. 

“You’re a hunter.” Dean was definitely a bit drunk. “You can’t have a baby. What’re you gonna do with the thing?” 

“Raise her,” Sam hissed, hanging up furiously. 

    That had gone terribly. He needed some time away from Dean. The only problem was that all he had was his wallet and cell phone, neither of which was all that helpful on the side of the road in a small town at eleven in the evening. All the shops were closed, and there was no one to call. 


	3. Rough

Sam’s phone rang sometime after midnight. It was easy to wake up. The ground was rough, and the dry grass scratched his face. It had been hard to fall asleep, even though he was exhausted. He rolled over, a little confused, before finding his cell phone in his pocket and taking the call. 

“Hello?” he asked sleepily. 

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Dean slurred drunkenly. 

Sam’s jaw tightened. “You’re drunk.”

Dean laughed. “Shoulda made sure your little boyfriend wore a condom, huh? Then you wouldn't a needed the balls to get the thing killed.” 

Sam snapped the phone shut. Breathing heavily, he threw his phone as far away from him into the darkness as he could. He turned away and laid back down on the hard ground, trying to fall asleep. 

In the distance, his phone rang. Sam covered his head with his arms and tried to ignore the sound. It rang several times in the night. Sam didn’t get much sleep. 

..

..

Sam got up late that morning. He tried to comb his hair with his fingers, but there wasn’t much he could do without his bag and a bathroom. He looked through the grass for his phone and pocketed it, but he didn’t check the messages. He wasn’t going to face those until after breakfast. 

He ate at a random fast food place. The food was greasy, nothing he’d have chosen. He ended up vomiting it up in the bathroom. He drank some water and got his hair to look decent enough to go out. The library was open, so Sam went there. It felt like his territory. Books were a familiar, comfortable presence, and they gave him courage to get his phone out and listen to his messages. They were all from Dean, all ten of them. 

_ “Pick up the phone, dammit!” _ Dean was angry.  _ “Don’t you dare hang up on me and then ignore my calls. Just cuz you’re a stupid, sulky omega brat who doesn’t know what’s good for him. I’m an alpha. You can’t ignore me! So pick up your phone, you stupid, pregnant ass.”  _

The library was supposed to be quiet, and that message hadn’t been. People were looking at Sam. None of them looked angry, just concerned and pitying. Sam didn’t want their pity. He ran to the bathroom to throw up the water he’d drunk. 

_ “You’re stupid, Sammy. You gotta listen to me. I’m your alpha, since Dad’s dead. You gotta get rid of that baby. It’s gonna steal you away from me, Sammy. Can’t let it do that. Gotta get rid of it. We’ll get rid of it. Easy to find pills for this early in the pregnancy. It’ll work, Sammy. We just gotta get rid of that thing.”  _

Sam deleted the rest of Dean’s messages without listening to them. Two had been more than enough. 

..

..

Sam’s phone started ringing at around one that afternoon. All the calls were from Dean. He didn’t take any of them, and after a little while he silenced the phone so he could think. He figured the library would be the first place Dean would look for him, so he relocated to an antiques store and killed time looking at the antiques. Dean wouldn't be caught dead there, so he should be safe enough. 

He shuddered. It felt so strange and horrible, running from Dean. Sam had sort of run from Dean when he’d run away to college, but they’d both known he was running away from Dad, not Dean. Leaving Dean had just been a painful requirement to getting out of hunting and away from Dad. It hadn’t been anything like this. 

..

..

It was 4:20 when Sam suddenly remembered that Luc had been going to call him at 4:00 to see if he was still at the Star Motel with Dean. And Sam wasn’t. He yanked out his phone and quickly checked for missed calls. Seven from Dean and two from Luc. Luc had called at 3:54 and 4:03. The second time he’d left a message. 

“ _ You should pay a bit more attention to your phone, Sam. I’m going to check your motel. If you left there and you get this, call me.”  _

Sam called Luc. 

“Hey, Sam.” Luc’s voice was friendly and cheerful. 

“Hi,” Sam managed. Why was it so hard to have a normal conversation with this alpha? There was nothing special about him aside from him getting Sam pregnant, and Sam wasn’t normally shy with alpha acquaintances. Were they acquaintances? He wasn’t sure. 

“Where are you?” Luc asked. 

“The antiques store on North Cannon Street,” Sam said, “Did you go to the motel?” 

“Yes. Your brother was there.” 

“Oh,” Sam said, “I- uh, did you talk to him?”

Luc hummed an affirmative. “He’s forceful. He’s afraid of me, now.” 

Sam would’ve asked what Luc had done, but he didn’t have to. Luc was intimidating, probably the most intense man Sam had ever spoken with. Dean would be afraid of him, and Luc would be perceptive enough to notice. Sam couldn’t see a conversation between them going well. But he didn’t care, currently. By his tone, Luc had won that conversation, and Sam was rooting simply for ‘not Dean’. 

“He doesn’t handle fear well,” Sam noted. 

“He punched me,” Luc said cheerfully. 

“Did you punch back?” 

“Of course,” Luc said, “We fought. He’s unconscious, but fine.” 

Sam didn’t feel sorry for Dean at all. The ‘of course’ only worried him a bit. He was used to fighters. 

“He deserves it,” Sam said. 

Luc laughed. “That he does.” 

There was a brief pause. 

“I’ll see you in two minutes?” Luc offered. 

“Alright,” Sam said, “See you then.” 

Luc hung up. 

It was only a minute before Luc showed up at the door of the antiques store. He walked casually over to Sam, who was frozen watching him. Sam had thought he remembered Luc from that night, but apparently two weeks was enough time for him to forget. Luc was beautiful. No, he wasn’t. 

He was hard to watch, but Sam couldn’t get himself to look away. In a traditional sense, Luc would probably be described as rugged. He was muscular, with hard features and scruff on his chin. His hair was a mess, really a mess, he clearly hadn’t fussed with it to make it calculatedly messy like a lot of men do, but it was a cute mess. 

His eyes were blue, the kind of blue that ought to be simple. They weren’t light or dark, and Sam couldn’t describe them as bright or dull. The irises took on a purple cast sometimes when he moved, but that was the only special thing about them. They were more unique when they were just blue eyes. It was the depth of his eyes, and the power. Something that made Sam feel completely insignificant. 

There were a few other things about Luc, things that made Sam less afraid. Things that made Luc more of an approachable person and less of a wild, untouchable pagan god. Only Sam had fought pagan gods, and they were nothing like Luc. Luc’s eyebrows were thin, especially on the outer edges. His forehead was wrinkled; he was older than Sam. His ears stuck out a bit, and he had a clear pudgy tummy. 

To Sam, Luc rode the line between terrifying and adorable, adorable in both senses of the term. And there was no doubt he was beautiful. Was it odd that Sam couldn’t refuse him and had to work to talk normally with him? 

“Sam.” Luc was smiling. 

Sam’s heart beat faster. He tilted his head down a little. “Luc. Hi.” The room seemed colder, now that Luc was here. He was the opposite of a furnace; he burned cold. 

“You travel a lot,” Luc said. 

Sam thought it was a question, but it was too decisive to be questioning. He nodded. “Yeah.” 

“Any permanent home?” 

That was an actual question. “Not really,” Sam said, “New motel room every week. It’s just how life works when you have my job.” He expected Luc to ask about Sam’s job. He didn’t. 

“It’s a good thing I can fly, then.” 

“So-” Sam wasn’t sure how to say what he wanted. “You’re planning to come by sometimes and see me and our baby?” 

“Yes.” 

Sam nodded. He also wasn’t sure how to say this next bit. “Are you interested in me?” 

Luc’s eyes were so intense. “It’d be hard not to be.” 

Luc’s cold, cold hands were suddenly on Sam’s cheeks. His lips pressed against Sam’s in an icy kiss. It wasn’t a passionate kiss. Hot, yes, but not the kind of kiss that works people up. It felt more like a promise. His lips were chapped. It was forceful and it wasn’t gentle at all, but it wasn’t rough, either. 

“I like you, Sam,” he said, when he’d pulled away. 

“I like you, too,” Sam admitted. 

..

..

It was night. Evening, but it felt like night. The sky outside the window of Luc’s hotel room was black. Cool arms wrapped around Sam from behind. He would’ve startled, but Luc’s footsteps had been audible. Luc propped his chin up on Sam’s shoulder, looking out the window as well. His body pressed against Sam’s from behind, and it was cold. 

“You’re so cold,” Sam murmured. He raised his hand to run his fingers along the back of Luc’s hand. The cold touch of Luc’s skin on the pads of Sam’s fingers shot electricity up Sam’s arm. 

“You run a little cold yourself,” Luc said. He grazed his teeth on the side of Sam’s neck. 

Sam’s breathing was heavy. “Not as much as you.” 

“Let me take your clothes off,” Luc said. 

Sam held back a whimper. “By the window? The curtains are open; someone could see.” 

“Yes or no?” Luc wasn’t touching Sam anymore. 

Sam bit his lip. “Yes.” 

And then Luc was slowly undoing the buttons on Sam’s flannel overshirt. His hands were cold, but his touch was feather light and the room was warm. He slowly tugged Sam’s shirt off. His movements were slow, sensuous. 

His cold fingers barely brushed Sam’s chest. The touch didn’t tickle, but only just. He brushed the edge of his fingernail against Sam’s exposed nipple. Cold. So cold. Sam shuddered, and his nipple hardened. 

Teeth. Just teeth, no lips. They scraped the skin just above his breastbone. Cold. 

The pad of a finger circled his nipple, and then the edge of the nail scraped painfully across it. 

Another hand undid the clasp on his jeans and pushed them down. Fabric pooled against his ankles. He was exposed in front of the window, and anyone could see him. Luc’s body partially blocked the view, but only partially. 

Luc was still fully dressed, leaving Sam feeling vulnerable and more exposed than even the window left him. 

_ “Luc.” _ Nervous and aroused, Sam’s voice was somewhere between a whimper and a moan. His hands gripped Luc’s shoulders; he didn’t remember lifting them. 

Breath was cold on his ear. He shivered. 

“Should I handcuff you again?” 

Memories of pain, defencelessness, and feeling trapped assaulted Sam’s mind. “Yes,” he moaned, “Please.” His legs were shaking. 

“Bed, then,” Luc told him, pulling away. But he slid behind Sam and held him in place by his shoulders. His hands were icy on bare skin. 

There was nothing hiding Sam from the window. 

Cold fingers slid down to play with Sam’s nipples, distracting him. 

Outside it was a normal night. The streetlamps were bright, there was one near, and it was a first floor window. There were cars on the road, and anyone could walk by. 

“We’re gonna get arrested for indecent exposure,” Sam said. 

“Only if we’re caught,” Luc purred. His fingernails scratched along Sam’s chest. He toyed with Sam’s nipples with the cold pads of his thumbs. 

A redhead paused in the halo of a streetlamp. Her eyes were fixed on Sam. 

“Luc,” Sam whined. His cheeks burned. 

“Is this too much for you?” Luc asked sweetly, a challenge. 

Sam scowled. He opened his legs a bit more, turning out his thighs to expose himself. He bared his neck to the redhead and anyone else who might be watching. 

“We are  _ so _ getting arrested for indecent exposure.” But there was laughter in his voice, and his cock was hardening. 

Luc reached down, wrapping his hand around Sam’s cock and slowly stroking it. He pressed kisses to Sam’s exposed neck. 

The redhead turned away quickly and walked away from them. 

“I think we scared her,” Luc said, amused. 

“Handcuffs?” Sam pleaded. Partially because all this exhibitionism was overwhelming him, and partly because he really wanted those handcuffs. 

The hand on Sam’s cock slid around to grope his butt. Luc kept it there as he led Sam away from the window and over to the bed. He firmly massaged Sam’s ass cheek, his fingers sliding near his crack but not touching it. Sam’s breathing was hard. 

Luc’s cold lips were harsh on Sam’s softer, warmer ones. The kiss was all teeth and pressure and icy heat. Sam realized he’d been backing up when the back of his legs hit the end of the bed and Luc knocked him backwards onto it. Luc was crawling on top of him. He dragged Sam upwards, pulling his arms up above his head before Sam could react. Cold steel pressed into Sam’s wrists and held them to the bed frame. 

“Happy now?” Luc asked. 

Sam opened his mouth to respond, and Luc shoved three fingers in for Sam to suck on them. 

“Suck,” he ordered. 

Sam would’ve tried to get a complaint out around the fingers, but Luc pinched his nipple, successfully distracting him. 

Luc slid the fingers out of Sam’s mouth with a wet sound. They were covered in spit. He used his dry hand to bend Sam’s legs back, exposing his ass and his hole. Luc shoved his finger into Sam’s hole with no warning. Sam gasped and his thighs jerked. Luc twisted the finger around, rubbing the rim of the hole and making Sam keen helplessly. His ass clenched around the finger, and his thighs were shaking. 

Luc pulled the finger out, rubbing gently over Sam’s hole with two fingers. Sam relaxed. Carefully, Luc slid the finger back into Sam’s hole. He gently worked his finger in all the way. He yanked his finger out until just the tip was still inside, then repeatedly thrust it in and out. 

Two fingers. The rubbing sensation on the inside of his rim drove Sam wild. He was begging and writhing; he couldn’t see straight. He loved the pulling, intrusive, cold, dirty feel of it. He’d never get over how amazing this was. 

A tongue replaced the fingers, making the whole area around Sam’s hole so wet and slick and open. The tongue was  _ in him _ . His hips shook, and the only thing he could do was keen helplessly. Fingers joined the tongue inside him, rubbing and twisting and filling him up. 

A finger brushed something deep inside of Sam that made sparks dance in his eyes. His back arched off the bed. Words poured from his mouth; he didn’t know what they were. The finger twisted back, hitting that spot again and again. It was hot and wet and rubbing and cold and he couldn’t- he couldn’t hold on. 

He tried to gasp a warning, but the fingers just thrust harder against that spot. And then he was cumming. His scream was a garbled mess of words that didn’t make sense together or even as individual words. Semen splattered all over his chest, and he convulsed. 

There was no proper resting in the afterglow, because those fingers were still moving. More slowly, but Sam was oversensitive and it stung. “Ah,” he whined, wriggling half-heartedly to get away. It was wet and cold and it kind of felt good, but it also hurt. He was split about this. 

“Luc?” Sam asked weakly, trying to get his eyes to focus. He was so helpless. Having this not work quite like he was expecting made his hands being tied almost scary. He was a tired, dazed, pregnant omega completely in the hands of an alpha he barely knew. It was a bit worrying. 

“Yeah, Sam?” Luc asked. 

It was hard to concentrate in the afterglow with two or three fingers up his wet, used ass. “Waz goin’ on?” Sam’s words were a bit slurred. He noted confusedly that Luc was still fully dressed and obviously hadn’t cum. 

Luc smirked. “How many times do you think you can cum tonight?” 


	4. Too Much

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. The second half of this is almost a case fic. I was not expecting that.

Pleasure. Pain. It was wonderful. Too much. 

His ass was loose and empty, soaked in cum, spit and lube. There was so much cum in him, but he still felt so empty. 

Cold fingers toyed with his flaccid cock. He’d cum so many times; he didn’t know if he could get it up again. He was oversensitive. It hurt. 

He yanked against his handcuffs. Cold metal dug into his wrists. He’d pulled on them too many times tonight already. His wrists were sore and throbbing. 

Fingers slid into his open hole. It stung and burned oversensitively, but the fingers were cold and offered a little relief. They rubbed against his rim, which was too much but felt so good. He writhed and moaned. His thighs were shaking. 

The cold fingers plunged in deeper, twisting and stroking. Deeper. Deeper, he wanted deeper. More. Fingernails pressed around inside of him, pinching and scratching. It hurt. It hurt so much. He screamed and sobbed against it, but it was over almost as soon as it had begun. Cold, gentle fingers soothed his skin, and then the fingers were gone. He was empty. He didn’t like it. 

And then a tongue was there, at his hole. His hips jerked, and he dry sobbed again. The tongue teased and stroked and rubbed and it was cold, so cold. 

Cold hands rubbed his thighs. They were firm and soothing, and something about them had heat pooling in him again. He wanted. He wanted. His thighs jerked as his hips tried weakly to thrust. Cool fingers tightened and held his hips still. Hands pressed his thighs down and held him even more open. He whined helplessly at how exposed and vulnerable that made him feel. 

Vulnerable. Anything could be taken. He was so open. He wanted to be taken, used. He didn’t care that he probably couldn’t cum even one more time, and it would hurt. 

A string of words left his mouth, incoherent pleas for Luc to take him, use him. He wanted. Oh, he wanted. He was so empty, and it was so cold. 

The tongue left. It was empty. Wet. Empty. Open. Wanting. 

With no warning, a cock suddenly shoved inside of him. There wasn’t much resistance. It was too much, so much too much, but he loved it and he wanted it. He was full and vulnerable and Luc was taking. 

There wasn’t any time to adjust. Pounding. A fierce, brutal pace. 

Sam couldn’t keep up and he couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t think. He was sobbing and full and overloaded. It was too much. He wanted it to stop, but he couldn’t have said so even if he’d wanted to. 

Taking. Pounding. Thrusting. 

He choked. His back arched. White spots danced in his vision. His body couldn’t adjust anymore. It was too much. He was breaking, coming apart. He dry orgasmed, shaking and writhing and sobbing and tugging against the handcuffs. 

He was too dazed to know what was happening for a while. 

Thrusts. Pain. Pleasure. Pain overriding the pleasure. He was begging. He couldn’t see, and his head wouldn't work. What was happening? 

Lips. Cold lips. Kisses. Passionate, clumsy, heartfelt kisses. Cold, hot kisses. 

His brain came back online a little. He tried to kiss back, but Luc  _ owned _ his mouth. He was helpless; he couldn’t keep up. He relaxed. He just felt Luc. 

Hot kisses. Cold lips. 

Harsh. Painful. Erratic. The thrusts were lovely and impossible agony. They were deep. So, so deep. He was being taken and used, and he felt full and wanted. He needed this. He wanted it. 

Rough kisses. Teeth. Too much. Ice cold teeth, and tearing and bleeding. Rusty blood in his mouth. He wanted it to stop. He didn’t think he could do this anymore. 

A deep thrust into Sam’s loose, wet ass triggered Luc’s orgasm. Cum flooded Sam’s system. It was soft and wet and it didn’t hurt. Luc fucked his cum deep into Sam’s body as he came, before finally pulling out and collapsing next to Sam. 

Cold arms held Sam close to a cold, bare chest. Cool fingers stroked his tear stained cheeks. Chapped lips touched his softer lips gently. A cold tongue pushed his mouth open and lapped away the blood. The kiss was warm. 

Cold lips on his forehead. Cool arms around him. Soothing. Safety. 

They lay quietly for a moment, and Sam just rested and breathed. 

Luc reached around for the key on the night table. He unlocked the handcuffs and set them on the table. Sam’s arms just lay flopped where Luc had left them, so Luc brought them down to a more normal position. He traced the broken skin and massaged some kind of cream into it. 

“Luc,” Sam whimpered. He tried to reach out, to fist Luc’s shirt. His fingers weren’t coordinated enough. His hand shook. A cold hand took his, squeezing it reassuringly. Cool fingers stroked his knuckles. 

He felt safe and wanted. He was happy. It was so hard, sometimes, to feel like he was worth anything. 

Luc sat up, tugging Sam up with him. He pulled Sam to his chest. He had a cup of juice in his hand; Sam wasn’t sure how it’d gotten there. 

“Drink,” Luc ordered. 

Sam could get his hand around the cup, but he couldn’t hold it without risking spilling. Luc’s hand was cold over his as he guided the cup to Sam’s lips. It was warm. Apple juice. It took some time for Sam to drink the whole cup. By the time he set the applejuice down he was steadier and he could hold it on his own. 

Sam and Luc lay down on a semi clean part of the bed, and Luc tugged the blankets up to their chins. Sam snuggled into Luc’s side, and Luc put his arm over Sam’s waist. Sam was exhausted, but he was too keyed up to sleep. Luc wasn’t sleeping either. 

“I’ll be gone in the morning,” Luc said finally. 

“Oh.” Sam’s heart dropped. He’d known, of course, that Luc couldn’t stay, but it hurt to hear that he was leaving so soon. “I’ll miss you.” 

“You’ve got my number,” Luc said, “Don’t be a stranger.” 

Sam smiled. “I won’t.” 

There was a slightly uncomfortable pause. 

“I know almost nothing about you,” Sam said finally. 

“Is that a question or a statement?” Luc’s tone was light, teasing. 

“Both.” 

“What do you want to know?” Luc asked. 

“Uh, start with your last name?” 

“Lumiere,” Luc said. 

“You’re french?” Sam asked, yawning. He was getting tired; he’d be able to fall asleep soon.

“Distantly,” Luc said, “No more questions, Sam. You need your sleep.” 

“Yeah, ok,” Sam said, closing his eyes. Sleep was good. He’d had an exhausting day. He drifted off in Luc’s cold arms, his face pressed against Luc’s chest. 

..

..

The room was warm. The pillows were wonderfully soft. Sheets. Soft, fluffy warm blankets. Something was missing, but he couldn’t quite tell what. Something should’ve been there. But he didn’t care. It was warm and soft, and he could just lie there and rest. 

It was warm. Why was it warm?

Luc. Luc should be there, and he was always cold. He wasn’t there. 

He’d said he was going to leave in the night. And he’d left. No surprise. Sam still felt disappointed. He’d wanted Luc to be there. But of course Luc couldn’t stay all the time; he had a life, just like Sam had a life. 

Sam should work on the hunt. That was Sam’s life. If Luc was going to go away to live his life, then Sam might as well work on the case. It was just a haunting. Twenty years ago, Mr. Walters beat his cheating wife to death in a fit of rage and then shot himself in the head. His teenage daughter lived with her mother’s sister for about a month and then hung herself. 

Sam wasn’t sure which of the three had left a murderous ghost. The bodies had all been beaten and shot in the head, and the markings on their necks indicated that they had been hung. The police thought it was a serial killer, but Sam knew better. So the easy thing to do would be to just go dig up all three graves and salt and burn the bodies. 

Should he call Dean? They worked cases together, not alone. He wanted Dean to be along so they could rock paper scissor for who didn’t have to go first. He wanted a companion in the dark graveyard, and someone to watch his back while he dug. He wanted to be able to work with his brother. Was that so much to ask? 

Sam got out his phone, his finger lingering over the call button. Should he? 

Before Sam could make a final decision the phone lit up with an incoming call from Dean. Sam hesitated a moment before picking it up. “Hey, Dean.” 

“Sammy! You can’t just not pick up the phone, man. I was a dick to you, I know, but I thought the ghost had gotten you or something! It’s been two nights!” 

“I just needed some time,” Sam explained. 

“You get anything on the spirit?” Dean asked. 

“So get this, there was a murder suicide in ‘88,” Sam started, “Guy beats his wife to death and then shoots himself in the head. And then a month later? The daughter hangs herself.”

“So- whose grave are we digging up?” 

“All three,” Sam said, “It’ll be good for your arm strength.”

“We waiting for dark?” Dean asked. 

“Do you wanna get arrested for grave robbery?” Sam asked. 

..

..

“What are crazy ghost’s possible names?” Dean asked, climbing out of his beloved Impala and heading around to the trunk to grab the shovels. 

“Amy Walters,” Sam said. 

“You said three earlier,” Dean said. 

“So get this, Amy’s parents died a month before she hung herself,” Sam said, “Ghosts base their killings off the crimes that happened before or as they died. David and Barbara Walters’ ghosts wouldn't go around hanging people, just beating and shooting. So it has to be Amy.” 

“OK,” Dean said, “Amy Walters it is. Any idea where in here she’s buried?” He looked around the large graveyard. 

“No, but we’ve got all night,” Sam told him cheerfully, “I’ll take the east side, you take the west.” 

Dean sighed overdramatically before going off to find Amy Walters’ grave. Seven minutes later or so he tripped over a stick and fell backwards, his flashlight spinning sideways out of his hand. He got up, grumbling about poor lawn maintenance. It was easy to find his flashlight; the light was clearly illuminating the headstone of the next grave. 

_ “Beloved niece. Amy Walters (1974-1988),”  _ it read. 

“Hey, Sam!” Dean called, “I found it.” 

Sam ran over and inspected the headstone. “That’s good, Dean.” 

“OK, I found it, so you can dig it,” Dean said. 

“Fair enough.” Sam started digging. Ten minutes later he was vomiting onto the grass. Dean looked worried. 

“You ok, Sammy? This just a- pregnancy thing, or-?” 

“It’s morning sickness,” Sam gasped out. He gagged up more tomato salad and oatmeal. “It’s normal.” 

“Huh,” Dean said, “Does it start this early?” 

“I’m nearly three weeks pregnant,” Sam said, wiping off his mouth and spitting into the grass. “I think that’s normal. Maybe a bit early. Anyway, it’s been normal for me the past couple of days.” 

“I’m gonna take over digging,” Dean said, despite it being way earlier than they’d usually trade off. 

Sam would normally put up a fuss. “OK,” he said meekly, sitting down on the grass. There were dark circles under his eyes. 

Dean started digging uneasily. 

..

..

“Dean. Hey. Wake up.” Dean jerked upright, reaching under his pillow. 

Sam took a step back. “Whoa, it’s just me.” 

“Right. Yeah.” Dean rubbed his eyes. “Why’re you waking me up at six am?” 

“The police found a body,” Sam said, “We should check out the crime scene.” 

“It’s probably just a normal dead body,” Dean grumbled, “We did the case already. Salt and burn. Done.” 

“A town like this doesn’t get many murders,” Sam told Dean, “We need to check this out. We could’ve missed something.” 

“Ugh, fine,” Dean groaned. He got up and stumbled into the bathroom. “I’ll be ready in ten.” 

Sam waited impatiently. He was exhausted and he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep, but if this was connected to the case they thought they’d solved then it was his fault. He’d done the research on this, and he’d been sure they were good. 

Dean was ready in eight minutes. They drove to the crime scene to see the body. 53 year old Gary Maxwell had woken up from a nightmare at 12:36 am that night. He had talked to his wife for a few minutes and then left to go for a walk. 

His body was lying on the sidewalk six blocks from his house. Hideous purple and blue bruises covered his flesh. His face was bloody, and a few of his teeth had been knocked out. His arm was bent back at an unnatural angle; it must have been broken in at least two places. There was a hole in the side of his head, and nasty rope marks wound around his swollen and purple broken neck. 

“What’d we miss?” Sam asked. 

“Must’ve been one of the other two,” Dean commented. 

“That doesn’t make sense,” Sam argued, “How could it be anyone but Amy? The parents weren’t around for her suicide.” 

“Maybe they watched it and were horrified,” Dean suggested, “We should salt and burn them; should clear the problem right up.” 

“It has to be someone who died after Amy,” Sam said, “Who else was close to her who died?” 

“Gravestone said ‘beloved niece’ on it,” Dean suggested, “Maybe aunty died after Amy somehow and she’s killing people?” 

“We need to do research,” Sam said, “We need to find every close friend and relative of the Walters family who’s died in the past twenty years.” 

Dean sighed. “More research.” 

“You can go back to the motel and sleep, just drop me off at the library,” Sam told him. Dean would be no help researching, anyway. 

..

..

Sam found a lead, and that afternoon he and Dean went to talk to Sandra Edwards, an aging widow who had been married to Ron, the man Sam suspected had been Barbara’s lover. Dean pushed the doorbell. Sandra opened it after a few minutes. Sam let Dean question her, as he was feeling light headed and crampy. Pregnancy wasn’t fun. 

Embarrassingly, Sam had to ask to use Sandra’s bathroom three times while Dean was questioning her. He hadn’t realised being pregnant involved peeing all the time. 

“Dude, what are you doing?” Dean asked when Sam came back the third time. 

Sam shrugged. It wasn’t like he could control this. He was relieved when they got out of there, although he didn’t really remember much of what Sandra had said. “So, what happened to the husband?” 

Dean stared at him. “Were you even listening? He just got sick. He was pretty upset over what happened to the Walters family. Blamed himself, since he was why David got so mad at Barbara that night.” 

“So it could be Ron?” Sam asked. 

“Yes, it could be Ron,” Dean said, looking Sam over worriedly, “You need to go to the doctor or something?” 

“I’m just pregnant,” Sam insisted, “This is all normal.” 

“Huh,” Dean said, “I’m taking you back to the motel.” 

“Wait, what?” Sam asked, “Why?” 

“Cuz you’re dead on your feet, peeing all the time, and starving yourself cuz you upchuck everything that goes down,” Dean told him, “You’re not hunting until the baby’s gone.” 

“What?!” Sam demanded, “You can’t order me around, Dean, and I’m keeping the baby!” 

“Let’s- let’s not go there again,” Dean said, “You’re feeling sick, and I can take care of one ghost. I’ll handle Ron Edwards, and you can get some sleep. You’ll feel better tomorrow.” 

Sam sighed. “Fine. Fine.” He was really tired, and he felt awful. He didn’t want to fight with Dean again, and he could live with missing an easy salt and burn. Dean could take this one. 

Back at the motel room, Sam crashed and slept like a log for several hours. When he woke up it was past dark and Dean was gone, probably to dig up Ron and burn the bones. Sam still felt light headed and he really needed to pee. He got up, peed, got constipated, and then felt hungry and wanted a marshmallow and banana sandwich. He had no idea what was up with his body lately. He had some more energy after the nap, so he walked to the nearest grocery store and bought marshmallows, bananas, and a loaf of bread. 

He made a marshmallow and banana sandwich and ate it. It tasted great and he was hungry, so he made another one and ate half. He flipped through some books halfheartedly, then gave up and lay down for about ten minutes. 

He got out his laptop and started looking for another case. He was worried that Dean would bring up the baby again if he didn’t have another case ready for him right after this one. Hopefully a close case so that they wouldn't have to drive a long way. But it seemed like Tennessee, and for that matter the whole southeastern quarter of the States, was quiet. The nearest case he could find was a handful of weird deaths in Delaware that looked monster related. Could Dean drive all the way to Delaware without taking the time to bug Sam and get in a fight with him about the baby? Sam wasn’t sure. He hoped so, because that was the closest thing that didn’t look totally normal. 

Sam closed his laptop and ate the other half of his marshmallow and banana sandwich. He hated marshmallows. Why did they taste so good? His stomach cramped unhappily. Ugh, this was a nightmare. 

Two minutes later Sam was in the bathroom throwing up loads of sugary, disgusting tasting half digested marshmallow and banana sandwich. This was just too much. He was eating something he disliked because of the pregnancy, and then the pregnancy made him throw it up. How was that fair? And his head spun no matter how much extra sleep he got, his stomach always hurt, and he knew soon people would be looking down on him because he was a pregnant, unmated omega. And it was only all going to get worse. 

A single tear traced down Sam’s cheek. He wiped it away furiously. He was  _ not _ crying. It was just so much, how was he supposed to deal with this?   



	5. Bloodlust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 666 views, wow! In honor of that number, this chapter has a section from Lucifer's POV instead of Sam's. I hope you like it. 
> 
> Warnings for this chapter include incest, non-con (not between Sam and Lucifer), violence and gore. So just be warned.

“He’s quite cute,” the beta girl in the turquoise shirt commented, grabbing his chin and tilting his head back. He hissed at her. 

“Betty, don’t play with your food,” the brunet omega said. He was short, with a hard face. 

Betty snorted. “Why not? You just want his blood.” 

The brunet omega rolled his eyes. “Sure, do whatever. Just don’t leave a big mess for hunters to find.” 

A tall blond alpha stepped into the room. He had an air of command about him. 

“Hey, Jerry,” the brunet omega said. 

“You captured a hunter,” Jerry said scornfully. 

“We what?” Betty gasped, stepping away from Sam, their captive. 

“Ih,” the brunet omega said nervously, “So we kill him. And run before there are others.” 

“This is all your fault!” Betty screamed at a fourth vampire. 

“How?!” the vampire, a pretty alpha girl with long hair, shot back. 

“You’re new! You’re clumsy!” Betty screeched, “You must’ve tipped them off!” 

“Or  _ you _ did,” the alpha girl spat. 

“Enough!” Jerry yelled, “Joseph’s right. We kill the hunter and skip town.” 

The brunet omega, Joseph, looked proud of himself. 

Sam hoped Dean was almost there. This wasn’t looking good. 

“Where are we gonna go?” a fifth voice demanded. Just how many of these vampires were there? 

“Who cares?” Joseph said, “Somewhere with no hunters.” 

“Well,  _ I _ care,” the guy retorted, flouncing into the light, “It’d better be somewhere  _ cultured _ , with an educated population.” He’d been turned young; he didn’t look more than sixteen. 

“Oh, shut up, Frank,” the female alpha said, “We just need food, lots of food.” 

“You’re younger than me, Kelly!” Frank argued. 

“Yeah, my brain hasn’t had time to rot like yours yet,” Kelly retorted. 

Sam was starting to hope the vampires would just argue for long enough that Dean would show up before they started killing him. He wasn’t sure what good Dean would be against five vampires, but he figured they’d work something out. They always did. 

“What’s going on?” Two betas, twins, walked in looking confused. Sam wasn’t sure which had spoken. A female omega followed them. 

“Betty caught a hunter,” Jerry explained, “We’re going to have to move base.” 

“I didn’t know hunters were that cute,” one of the twin betas said. They both smirked at Sam. 

“Alan, he’s a hunter!” Joseph protested, “Don’t- look at him like that.” 

“I’m Brian,” the twin commented, “Do try to keep us straight.” 

“Yeah, that’s so easy when there’s no telling you apart,” Joseph mumbled. 

Alan scowled at Joseph. 

“Although  _ straight _ isn’t a word I’d use to describe us, per se,” Brian noted. 

Alan grinned and kissed his identical twin right on the lips. 

“Will you guys quit with that?” Kelly demanded. 

“Hmm,” Alan said, pretending to think about it, “No.” He kissed Brian again, using tongue this time. 

Kelly threw up her arms. She marched out of the room, and Joseph followed her. 

“Kill him or turn him, I don’t care which,” Jerry told the room at large, “We leave in an hour.” He left to make preparations. 

The female omega who’d come in with the twins and had yet to say anything grabbed Frank’s hand and pulled him out of the room, leaving Sam with just the twins and Betty. The twins were plenty busy with each other, but Betty went over to Sam and dragged his head back by his hair. 

“Let go of me, or when I kill you it’ll be slowly,” Sam threatened. 

“Aw, sweet,” one of the twins cooed mockingly. 

“I know, he’s just adorable,” the other twin chimed in, “I want him.” 

Betty just rolled her eyes. She forced Sam’s head back farther and her second pair of teeth came out as she prepared to bite down on his exposed neck. Sam yanked at his bonds, but they were well tied and he couldn’t move at all. 

“If you just want to eat him, let us play first,” a twin said. 

“Yeah, we don’t want to  _ literally _ eat him,” the other twin added, “He’ll be intact for you.” 

“His blood should be sweeter, too,” the first twin said. 

“Fine,” Betty said, “But I’d rather not witness this.” She left. 

“Bye, Betty!” a twin called with assumed sweetness. 

Sam was alone with two crazy vampires who apparently thought he was cute. He scowled at them and tried to look very much  _ not _ cute. 

“His hair, Brian,” a twin, Alan, he supposed, said, “Look at his hair. It’s so long and fluffy.” Alan patted Sam’s hair. 

Sam jerked his head away angrily. “Get your hands off my hair! Touch me again, and I’ll kill you.” 

“Well, he’s not very docile,” Brian commented, palming Sam’s dick. 

Sam flinched.  _ “Don’t!” _

Alan grabbed a handful of Sam’s pretty hair and yanked his head back hard enough to pull out a fair chunk of it. Sam gasped with pain, his eyes tearing up involuntarily. This was the worst hunt ever. 

“Get your hands off of me!” 

“Do we have drugs?” Alan asked Brian. 

“Mm, good idea,” Brian commented, “I will go get some, while you- ready our new toy.” He dragged Sam into a harsh, biting kiss that far too long and passionate for Sam’s taste. Sam tried to break away, but the vampire was too strong. Brian didn’t need air, and he had no qualms about pushing Sam’s jaw open and shoving his tongue past Sam’s lips by force. Sam tried furiously to bite down on Brian’s tongue, but nothing was working. 

He felt horribly helpless and tears stung his eyes. By the time Brian pulled away, Sam had mostly stopped fighting. Fighting wasn’t working. There was nothing he could do. How could this be happening? 

“He might not need drugs to behave,” Alan commented, “I mean, crying already? He’s weak.” 

Sam’s teeth clenched. “I am not weak, and you’re not going to get anywhere.” 

“You’re tied up, honey,” Brian cooed, “We’ll get wherever we want with you.” 

Alan unzipped Sam’s fly. 

“No,” Sam said. 

“This chair he’s tied to,” Alan said. 

“It’s annoying,” Brian finished for him. 

“Go get drugs so we can fuck him properly,” Alan said, leering at Sam. Brian left. 

Sam tried to steady his breathing. “You don’t have to do this.” 

Alan smirked. “Oh, I know, honey. I want to do this, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” 

Sam prayed Dean was coming. 

Alan knocked Sam’s chair backwards onto the floor, jarring his head and leaving spots dancing in his eyes. Alan unzipped his own fly and yanked his pants off, approaching Sam with a lustful grin. 

“What are you doing?!” Sam demanded. 

Alan shoved his cock into Sam’s mouth. “And don’t you bite, honey, or I’ll use the hole with no teeth. And that’ll hurt you a lot more.” 

Sam was quite tempted to bite, but the threat of full on rape scared him a lot. He didn’t think he could deal with that and ever be ok afterwards. He’d seen rape tear people apart from the inside out. He knew Alan and Brian would end up raping him eventually, but Jerry had only given them an hour and Dean would be coming sometime. There were at least eight vampires, but Dean was Dean. Anything he  _ had _ to do, he could do. So Sam lay perfectly still except for the tears rolling down his cheeks and his ragged breathing. He tried to get away from what was happening. If he could retreat into his head to get away, maybe it wouldn't be such a horrible invasion of who he was. Maybe he wouldn't feel like every thrust of Alan’s cock was driving him farther away from things like self worth, confidence, hope, joy, peace and life. 

Sam choked and coughed and cried, but he didn’t feel it. There was nothing to feel. He wasn’t in his body. If he didn’t believe it, then it wasn’t happening. He could hide far enough away that it wouldn't count. He had to be able to. 

Alan came. He made noises, and his cock jumped a lot. Sam wasn’t registering it. There was too much warm, icky liquid in his mouth. He ignored it. It felt so wrong and horrible, but it was distant. He could make himself believe it was like a dream. 

Brian was there. “Started the party without me, huh?” He didn’t look too annoyed. 

Alan and Brian kissed for a little while, and Brian rutted against Alan. Then the twins turned to Sam, who was lying dazed and bound to the chair on the floor. Alan’s cum had spilled onto Sam’s lips and the floor. Sam’s eyes were wide and vacant. He didn’t move. 

“Drug him,” Alan purred. His hand was hot, soft and rough on Sam’s cock. He set a fast pace and stroked too firmly for it to be pleasant. Sam’s cock grew hard without his permission. 

“No,” Sam whined, “No, no please. Don’t.” 

“This might knock him out,” Brian admitted, shoving a shot into Sam’s arm. 

The world got blurry as the drug quickly took effect.  _ Help me, _ Sam prayed desperately,  _ Anybody. Please. Help. _ And then he was out on the floor of the vampires’ lair. 

..

..

There was nothing nice about hell. Beautiful, yes, but it was all horrible. The black, volcanic ceiling dripped lava. It was a beautiful, wild effect, but it could be quite painful if the lava caught you off guard. The ground was made of shattered glass. It caught the light and sparkled, but all the demons feet bled. Blood on broken glass was a pretty sight as well. 

Lucifer was an archangel and the devil, so of course the glass didn’t hurt his feet or any other part of him. He was lying on the ground, looking up at what served as the sky in hell. It  _ was _ beautiful, truly. It was nothing on heaven, of course, but he’d never trade his freedom in his own mind for just the beauty of heaven. It could never be worth it. 

_ Help me, _ a general prayer begged. Lucifer wondered why he’d heard it. Most general prayers went unheard, since there were so many of them. He should only hear general prayers from people he was especially interested in, and that was a short list.  _ Anybody. Please. Help.  _

Was that Sam? The little mortal he’d accidentally gotten pregnant? If his child was in danger, Lucifer needed to figure out what exactly was happening and stop it. He wanted that baby. Sam, of course, was only useful as long as he was pregnant. Lucifer would probably kill him if he made it through giving birth, not that Sam would. Nephilim births were hard on their human carriers. 

With a thought, Lucifer was outside the building where Sam was. He could see through the walls, and Sam was not in good shape. He was drugged to unconsciousness, and he’d obviously been forced to blow the two vampires who were currently fucking each other on top of him. It wasn’t a pretty sight. 

Lucifer’s eyes burned red with wrath. That was  _ Sam  _ that they were so carelessly violating. His Sam. How dare they touch him. They were going to die, and then he was going to drag them to hell for a while before he let them go to their natural resting place in purgatory. No one hurt Sam. 

Lucifer quickly scanned the rest of the building. It housed a coven of eleven vampires. Excellent, a bloodbath was just what he needed right now. He walked coolly into the building, which seemed to be an abandoned office building. Two vampires were carrying suitcases across the foyer. They looked up at Lucifer, and the first one dropped her suitcase. 

“How’d you get in here?” the other one demanded. She stalked forward. 

The first one caught her arm. “Betty, don’t,” she said, staring at Lucifer with wide eyes, “He’s a hunter. He must be.” 

Betty pulled away from her friend and marched angrily towards Lucifer. “Get ready to die, hunter,” she announced, “I’m going to suck your blood and leave your drained corpse in the street.” She reached to attack Lucifer, but he was faster than she was. He grabbed the side of her head in one hand and her shoulder in the other, then yanked her head off her shoulders with a sickening ripping sound. Blood splurted everywhere. Lucifer let go of her shoulder, and Betty’s corpse dropped to the floor. Lucifer looked down at Betty’s head contemplatively. He stroked her cheek with his thumb for a moment before squeezing. Her skull caved inward with a horrifying crack. 

Lucifer looked up at Betty’s friend. She was staring at Betty’s body, horrified. 

She looked up at Lucifer slowly. Her eyes were vacant with disbelief. “You killed her,” she whispered, “You’re not a hunter. What are you?” 

Lucifer’s eyes lit up red, and he smiled. “I’m the devil himself.” 

The girl let out a soft scream. She whirled around and ran like the devil was after her, which he was. He waved his hand, and her head exploded in a wave of blood and bits of bone and flesh. Red guck painted the walls. There were two headless corpses on the ground. 

Lucifer found a vampire in the hallway outside the bathroom. 

“Huh?” the vampire asked, looking confused. 

A knife appeared in Lucifer’s hand, and he brought it between the vampires legs, slicing upward through his dick, torso, neck and head. The vampire dropped to the ground, cut in two halves the long way and thoroughly dead. 

Three vampires, two girls and a boy, charged out of the stairwell to try to attack Lucifer. They were all armed with knives, and the boy and one of the girls looked scared. They hung back while the fearless girl tried to tackle him. He caught her fist in his hand and crushed it into a bloody mess with jagged bits of bone sticking out. 

“Kelly!” the scared girl cried, horrified. She made no move to come forward. 

“L-let her go,” the boy stammered, trying to look in control and failing miserably. 

“What are you?” the brave girl, Kelly, asked Lucifer. 

Lucifer smirked evilly. “I’m the devil,” he said casually. He pushed Kelly away from him, and she fell to the ground. None of the three of them seemed keen on attacking. 

“Please don’t kill me!” the scared girl squeaked. 

“Shut  _ up, _ Sharon,” Kelly snapped, “He’s gonna kill us all; you don’t have to be a coward about it.” 

“Don’t presume you know what I’m planning,” Lucifer told Kelly. He looked to all three of them. “One of you gets to live, as long as that one stabs the other two to death.” 

“Forget it!” Kelly yelled, “We’ll never betray-  _ gluck _ \- each other...” Sharon had stabbed her through the heart. She yanked her blade out and beheaded Kelly in one quick movement. 

The boy vampire brought his blade up just in time for Sharon to impale herself on it as she stabbed him. They both dropped, and Lucifer animated their half dead hands to grab their blades and behead each other. Three dead vampires lay on the floor in a growing pool of vampire blood. Nice. Lucifer headed upstairs to see what the next vampire would be like. 

A male alpha was sitting on the top step, reading a thick, small print book and looking rather bored. He looked up when he heard Lucifer’s footsteps on the stairs. “Did you idiots catch the intruder yet?” he asked. 

“They sure did,” Lucifer said, stepping into the light and letting the vampire see the blood splatters all over him. 

The vampire squeaked and dropped his book on his foot. He yelped in shock and stumbled to his feet, backing away towards the door out of the stairwell. “Jerry!” he screamed, “Help! There’s this bloody maniac here!” 

Lucifer snapped his fingers, and the vampire’s blood pressure rose, pushing plasma into his lungs. He choked, coughing up pink foam. He couldn’t get any oxygen and slowly suffocated. Lucifer stepped on the vampire’s neck, grinding his shoe into it and tearing it away from his shoulders. 

Another male alpha vampire met Lucifer in the hallway. Jerry, he supposed. Jerry attacked him clumsily, and Lucifer slid the knife forcefully just below a rib. Jerry gasped out in pain. Lucifer made air build up in Jerry’s chest, crushing his vital organs to the side and slowly killing him. 

There were just three vampires left, and then he could make sure Sam was ok and help him. He hoped Sam wouldn't be in too bad of shape, but humans were fragile and he knew it might not go so well. But as long as Sam was alright to carry their baby to full term Lucifer didn’t care what happened to him. And Sam should be fine for that. 


	6. Silent Scream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a nightmare to write. I had writer's block the whole time, and I'm pretty sure if I hadn't found a new band to listen to I'd still be, like, a quarter done with it. Digital Daggers saved my life. Especially 'Angel' and 'Heaven or Hell'.   
> Warning: this chapter contains sexual assault, bloody torture violence, and hurt/comfort. And that's basically it. Lucifer is surprisingly sweet in places.

Hot. Too hot. He didn’t like it. His mouth was stuffed full of something nasty, and he wanted it gone. It was too deep and thick and he couldn’t breathe. He tried to spit it out, but he couldn’t get his mouth to move at all. The thing in his mouth was moving, he noted vaguely. Jerking back and forth and choking him. It was so hot and icky. He wanted it gone. He needed it gone. But he couldn’t move away like he wanted. 

He got his eyes open, but he couldn’t see. There were just blurry masses of color on an empty grey background. His eyes hurt, and his throat hurt. He tried to move his hand to his eyes to see if he could figure out what was wrong with them, but his hand only wiggled weakly and didn’t move. He hated being so helpless. 

The hot, icky thing yanked out of his mouth, and then a hot, sticky substance was coating his face. Luckily, his eyes shut reflexively. His mouth stayed helplessly open and got icky stuff in it, but that was ok because it already wasn’t quite his anymore. That thing had been in it, taking everything it had, and there was already hot, sticky guck pressed in down his throat. It was salty and tasted disgusting. He would’ve vomited, but he didn’t have the strength to contort his throat enough for that to happen. 

There was noise like a door opening. A voice was yelling. The words didn’t all process, but he could hear them. “Alan! Brian! There’s this guy coming; we have to run, now!” 

“The hunters with this one?” Sam didn’t know if the voice was Alan or Brian, as they sounded the same. He felt a hard shoe kick his side. He tried to squirm away, but then a similar shoe was kicking him from the other side and he gave up. 

“Stay  _ still, _ whore,” a twin ordered. 

“What did you call him?” The new voice was furious. Sam couldn’t place it, but he knew he’d heard that voice somewhere before. That was safety. He tried to reach towards the voice, but a foot stomped down on his arm. He whimpered and stilled. 

The temperature in the room dropped. The pressure was suddenly gone from his arm, and there was a banging noise. 

“I told you he’s not a hunter; run!” There was a heavy, wet noise, and a light splatter of blood drops. A nasty tearing sound, and a body hit the floor. 

“You- you just-” a twin spluttered. 

“He just stuck his hand through Joseph’s chest!” the other twin finished in a pained voice. 

“What d’you want with our hunter whore?” the first twin demanded. 

A smashing sound, and then ripping and a nasty crushing noise. Screaming. Another nasty crushing noise, more screaming. Ripping and tearing, a guttural, broken, near silent cry of pain. 

“Stop it!” a twin screamed, “Stop it, stop it, you’re killing Brian!” 

“Brian, huh?” the familiar, comforting voice said, “That’s a big dick you’ve got, Brian. A bit bloody, now that’s it’s detached, but I bet you were quite proud of it. Let’s see what kind of spleen you’ve got.” There was a sickening, gushy wrenching noise, and then the twins were sobbing helplessly and there was cold laughter. 

Cold. Cold was nice. Sam wanted- he wanted- He whined and clutched at the air, trying to force his drugged, weak body towards the source of the cold. It was chilly in the room, now, and it felt safe. 

Squelchy, disgusting noises. Screams and sobbing. More laughter. Bone breaking. A swish of a blade leaving a sheath. 

“Wait!” a twin yelled. The cold, sharp edge of a blade pressed against Sam’s neck. “Let him go, or I’ll cut this human’s throat.”

There was a low, ominous growl that made Sam’s hair stand on end. 

Alan whimpered. 

Sam swallowed without thinking, and the movement pressed the blade deeper into his skin. It cut through, and a bit of Sam’s blood trickled down his neck. 

Thunder cracked the sky, and Alan was suddenly gone from on top of Sam. Terrified of what might be happening, Sam let his head fall to the side and forced one eye open. Alan was kneeling on the ground by the wall with no pants. A boot was shoved right up his ass, and he screamed silently. The boot kicked, and his intestines poured out his belly button onto the ground. The boot was yanked out, and a knee came down on his shoulders, holding them still as two hands tore his head off. There was blood, there was so much blood. Sam didn’t want to see it, so he closed the eye he’d gotten open. 

Loud footsteps stalked over to the other twin, and there was another noise like tearing. 

“And there’s your heart, Brian,” the cold, familiar voice said. 

One more sound of tearing, and there was nothing. Still nothing. What was happening? 

“Hey, kiddo.” The voice was gentle now. Sam still couldn’t understand all the words, but there was no more anger. That was good. 

The person picked him up and held him close. “Don’t cry, Sam.” There was a warm, wet cloth on his face, a contrast to the cold fingers. The icky guck on his face was cleaned off, and he could’ve opened his eyes if he’d wanted to. He didn’t. 

The guck in his throat vanished, and the icky, unhappy feeling in his stomach did, too. His dick was tucked back in his underwear, and cold hands zipped his pants back up. That was a relief. He felt a lot less exposed like that. 

“Can you talk?” the voice asked, “I know they drugged you, but I want you to try.” 

Sam shivered. He couldn’t use his mouth for anything, not after- that had happened. He tried to shake his head and managed to wiggle it from side to side a bit. 

“Sam.” The voice was stern. 

Sam started crying. He just couldn’t handle this. After everything that had happened, the only person who could help him couldn’t get mad at him too. He let his mouth fall open. He couldn’t risk disobeying. “Nnn ah,” he managed. 

“I’m not mad at you,” the voice soothed, “That’s good, Sam. That’s really good. You’re ok. Just relax.” 

Sam hid his face in the person’s shirt. Luckily, he could move enough now for that to work. “Wah Lu,” he whimpered, trying to get a grip on the person’s shirt. 

“Fall asleep, Sam,” the person ordered, “Your brother will wake you up, and you’ll feel better then.” 

“Nuh,” Sam mumbled. 

A cold hand came to rest on the back of his head, and a power like wind raced through his body from it. His eyelids drooped, and it wasn’t long before he drifted off in the arms of his rescuer. 

..

..

When Sam woke up, his head was clearer. He sat up and and looked around as Dean came running in. “Sam! Thank God you’re alive. What happened?” 

“I’m not sure,” Sam said, rubbing his head, “There were a lot more vampires than we thought. They had me captured and were hurting me, but then this guy came in and stopped them. He tore them apart.” 

“It’s a bloodbath,” Dean said, “I know they’re vampires, but- no hunter could do this.” 

Sam got up and inspected the bodies. “Their heads weren’t cut off,” he noted, “How strong would he have to be to tear someone’s head right off?” 

“Look at this,” Dean called, standing over one of the twins’ bodies. 

“I kinda saw that,” Sam said, coming over to him, “They’d drugged me, but I watched this guy shove his boot up the vamp’s ass and kick his intestines out.” 

“Wow,” Dean said, “Any idea why? Was he a demon or something these guys pissed off?” 

“A demon should’ve killed me,” Sam said. 

“What did he do to you?” Dean asked, looking Sam over critically, “You said they hurt you, but you look fine. Better than fine.” 

“He healed me,” Sam said, smiling involuntarily. 

Dean looked suspicious. “What’s that cum doing drying on your pants?” he demanded. 

Sam looked down. He shivered helplessly, hugging himself. His face paled, and his eyes looked glassy. 

“Sammy?” Dean demanded worriedly, “What’s going on? Are you ok?” 

“Yeah,” Sam choked out, trembling, “I’m fine, Dean.” 

Dean stared at him disbelievingly. “Sure, whatever,” he mumbled after a while. “Let’s get outta here, Sammy.” 

Sam was staring at three bloody lumps of flesh on the ground next to Brian’s body. “Is- is that-?” 

“A dick and balls, I think,” Dean said, “Look.” He pointed to the body, which was partially stripped and clearly missing the guy parts. 

Sam was wide eyed and more than a little horrified. “He deserves it,” he said finally. 

“Did he-?” Dean motioned awkwardly to the cum on Sam’s pants. 

Sam’s lips trembled, and he shrunk in on himself. 

“Oh,” Dean said, “Um.” He hurried from the room. Sam followed. 

..

..

“I think I’m gonna call Luc,” Sam said. His voice was still soft and scared. 

“He do, like, the whole talking about your feelings thing?” Dean asked awkwardly. 

“I guess.” 

Dean nodded. “It’s probably a good idea. You can have your whole emo chat thing together.” 

“Emo chat thing?” Sam asked, amused. 

“Yeah, whatever,” Dean grumbled. 

Sam pressed call and listened as Luc’s phone rang. He picked up after two rings. 

“Hey, Sammy,” Luc said, “What’s going on?” 

Luc’s voice affected Sam in a way he hadn’t expected. He couldn’t hold back a dry sob, and his voice wouldn't work. 

“Sam?” Luc asked, worried, “What’s wrong? Are you ok? Sammy?” 

“I-” Sam choked back another sob. “It’s just so good to hear your voice.” 

“Where are you?” Luc demanded. 

Sam looked out the window to check for signs. “Near Pendleton,” he said. 

“Oregon?” Luc asked. 

“Yes,” Sam said, “Are you gonna come get me?” 

“Yes,” Luc said, “I’m close. Head west. Meet me in Roosevelt.” 

Sam held the phone away from his ear. “Dean, turn around,” he said, “Go to Roosevelt.” 

“Why?” Dean asked, looking for a good place to u-turn. 

“Luc’s gonna meet me there,” Sam told him. 

Dean turned around and headed for Roosevelt. Sam brought the phone back to his ear. 

“Be there in an hour,” Dean said. 

“So what happened, Sam?” Luc asked. 

Sam hesitated. Luc was just a civilian. How was Sam supposed to explain this? 

“Sammy, talk to me,” Luc said, “Please.” 

“I didn’t know you knew that word,” Sam tried to tease. 

“I don’t use it very often,” Luc said, “Now, do you want to tell me what happened, or should I wait an hour to see you in person and drag it out of you?” 

“Can we do this in person?” Sam asked hopefully, “I think it’ll feel easier that way.” 

..

..

“Do I hafta talk about it?” Sam whined, feeling like a little kid. 

Luc just looked at him. 

Sam looked away. He shivered miserably and tugged his knees up to his chest. “Stop looking at me,” he whined pathetically. 

“Why?” Luc inquired. 

“Because.” Sam started crying. 

“I’m going to put my arm around you,” Luc warned. 

Sam nodded distractedly, not looking at Luc. 

Luc put his arms around Sam and slowly pulled him to his chest. Sam pulled Luc closer. His hand gripped Luc’s shoulder as tightly as he could. 

“Sam, you’re safe,” Luc told him, “You’re free. You can relax.” 

“Why’d they do it?” Sam asked, “They kidnapped me, and that made sense. We were enemies. But they should’ve killed me. Why’d they-? I don’t get it. I don’t wanna get it. It burns.” Sam was sobbing by the time he finished talking. 

Luc just held Sam and didn’t say anything. What was there to say? 

“And I dunno how I got away,” Sam said after a while, “Luc, I’m scared. And- I’m smiling and I don’t know why. I dunno what happened.” 

“I’m having a hard time following you, Sammy,” Luc said, “You got kidnapped by some enemies of yours who I’m guessing messed with you, and then you magically got away how?” 

“Somebody rescued me,” Sam said, “He was cold. It was all cold, Luc. He reminded me of you. There was blood. So much blood.” He hid his face in Luc’s shoulder. 

Luc cupped the back of Sam’s head with a cold hand. “They deserved it.” 

“He tore this guy’s balls and dick off,” Sam giggled, “I mean, they deserved it, but still- yikes. And he tore a whole bunch of people’s heads off with his bare hands. It was- scary and incredible.” 

“It sounds like you have a violent guardian angel,” Luc noted. 

“Yeah,” Sam said, “I guess. It’s nice to know someone cares.” 

“Who could manage to not care about you?” Luc complained. 

“Those guys, apparently,” Sam mumbled, hunching his shoulders. 

“Don’t you dare judge yourself by what they said and did.” 

“It’s like they broke something in my head,” Sam said, “when they did that. Something broke. I can’t fix it. I don’t know what it is.” 

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Luc said, “I’ve never had anything like that happen to me.” 

“It goes so deep,” Sam said, shivering uncontrollably, “It won’t leave. They didn’t rape me, but they got  _ inside _ of me, and it’s so horrible. I can’t breathe right. How am I supposed to get through this?” 

Sam ducked his head. His mouth was open, and his throat strained like he was screaming. There was no sound. 

“They made me so helpless,” Sam whispered, “I hate them. I hope they’re burning in hell.” 

“They are,” Luc said. 

“I don’t know what happens when you die,” Sam admitted, “I guess they still exist somewhere, and I believe in hell, but- I don’t know. I hope you’re right. I feel like a jerk for saying that, though.” 

“Don’t,” Luc said, “Anyone who hurts you deserves what they get. And nobody goes to hell for no reason. I think we can trust the angels to take innocents to heaven, don’t you?” 

“You believe in angels?” Sam asked. 

“Yes,” Luc said, smiling. 

“I do too, I think,” Sam said, leaning against Luc, “I’m not always sure. Sometimes it’s hard to believe in angels.” 


	7. Fall Apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is late. I went to a maximum security prison for several hours and it freaked me out, ok? Writing got hard. No smut cuz I wasn't in the mood. It's a plotty, many-short-scenes chapter, with a new character I think you'll all enjoy.

“Luc?” Sam’s voice was timid. 

“Yeah?” 

Sam’s eyes dropped shyly. The vampires had managed to steal all his confidence. He wasn’t sure what to say. 

“What is it, Sam?” Luc asked. 

“Kiss me?” He looked at Luc with soft, pleading eyes. 

There was no saying no to Sam when he asked like that. Not that Luc particularly wanted to say no, anyway. 

Luc’s lips were cold. The kiss was gentle and warm, but Luc’s lips were cold. It was good. The cold made it impossible for Sam’s messed up brain to interpret the touch as anyone’s but Luc’s. Sam clung to Luc’s shoulders, melting into the kiss. He still felt helpless from being assaulted, but maybe being helpless in a more normal, better way with someone he trusted would help. Because helplessness didn’t normally bother Sam at all. 

Luc’s kisses could never stay gentle for long. He knocked Sam down onto the mattress and pinned his hands up over his head. Sam moaned helplessly, and then Luc’s tongue was in his mouth. Luc’s cold, clever tongue. The kiss was wild and dominant, but the edge of harshness Sam usually felt from Luc wasn’t there. Not that Sam could really think all that through with Luc’s tongue halfway down his throat. All he could do was surrender and let Luc take and give and dominate him. 

Weight pressed down against him. Luc was everywhere. Sam was embarrassingly hard, and he  _ wanted. _ Cold, chapped lips on his neck. A hand in his hair, tugging almost gently. Another hand at his wrists, holding them together and in place. It wasn’t a strong grip, Sam could’ve gotten away if he’d wanted to, but it was a grip and it held him in place. He writhed against it, whining desperately. 

Luc pulled back. 

“Hey,” Sam protested incoherently, “Luc. Luc. Luc, please. Please. Ah.” His hips thrust upwards. 

“Sam. Think for me for a minute,” Luc ordered. 

“OK. OK,” Sam gasped, trying to calm his body down. “What the hell is it, Luc?” 

“Sam, you were sexually assaulted earlier  _ today _ ,” Luc said, “I need to be sure you’ve thought this through, you actually want it, and you aren’t going to panic in the middle of it because you don’t know about any new triggers you might have.” 

Sam groaned. “No, I haven’t thought it through, but I don’t want to,” he said, “Just fuck me, Lu. Please.” 

“No,” Luc said, pecking Sam lightly on the lips and rolling off of him. 

Sam scowled at him. “You can’t just lie on me and kiss me like that and then not do anything,” he complained. 

Luc crossed his arms. “I don’t think you’re in a mental state where you can consent. So, yes, I can and will kiss you senseless and then leave you hanging. You’ll survive.” 

“Ugh.” 

“Ugh?” Luc asked archly. He got more serious. “I’m just trying to keep you safe, Sam.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Sam admitted, “And you’re right, my head is a mess right now. I just- I don’t want to have to think. And you can always make me stop thinking.” 

“Let’s go over why you don’t want to think,” Luc suggested. 

Sam scowled at him. “Luc, that’s exactly what I’m trying to avoid doing!” 

“Sometimes the things you most want to avoid are the best for you,” Luc said. 

“Are you trying to sound like Proverbs?”

Luc looked offended. “I do not sound like the Bible,” he said, “At all. Ever.” 

Sam leaned back. “Sore point?” 

“Kinda.” 

“Why don’t we talk about that, since you desperately want to have a painful heart to heart?” Sam asked hopefully. 

“Nope,” Luc said, “I didn’t get kidnapped earlier today.”

Sam whimpered. “And now I’m thinking about it again,” he mumbled unhappily, “Can’t you just let me get distracted, Luc? I don’t want to think about anything.” 

Luc shook his head. “I really think you need to go over this, Sam. Try. Just talk about it.” 

“OK, they tied me down, messed with my dick, fucked my mouth, c-came down my throat, f-fucked each other on t-top of me, fucked my m-mouth again, and one of them came all over my face. Is th-that enough talking for you?!” 

Luc pulled Sam into his arms. “It’s ok, Sammy. Don’t cry.” 

“I’m not crying,” Sam lied rebelliously. 

“Sure,” Luc said. 

Sam furiously wiped his cheeks with the back of his fist. “I shouldn’t be crying,” he sobbed, “It’s over. It was just- half an hour, maybe? It’s over and I’m safe and they’re dead. I should feel safe. I should be able to move past this. I can’t, I can’t. Luc, why can’t I? What’s wrong with me?!” 

“Things like this take time to get over,” Luc said, “Half an hour of abuse can take months to recover from. Give yourself time.” 

Sam just cried and clutched at Luc’s shirt. 

..

..

“I feel so angry,” Sam gritted out. 

“I know,” Luc said coolly, “I feel like you’re trying to break my hand.” 

“Oh, sorry.” Sam let go. 

Luc took Sam’s hand and cradled it between his own. 

“I wish they were still alive so I could tear them apart myself,” Sam continued angrily, “Wait, no, I don’t. Thank God they’re dead.” 

Luc smirked, amused. 

“Anyway, I’m never gonna see them again and that’s great,” Sam said, “I just- I  _ hate _ them, and-” He was cut off by a phone ringing. 

Sam looked around. 

“It’s not mine,” Luc said. 

“It’s mine,” Sam said, sighing. He checked the caller id. “It’s just Dean, he can wait.” 

“OK,” Luc said, “You were saying?” 

“They stole a lot from me,” Sam said, “but they couldn’t take anything I can’t get back or live without. They’re dead, and I’m still kicking. So in the end, I won. I’m free and breathing and I still have my life. I kind of pity them, actually. What could be so messed up in their heads that they’d try that? It must’ve been horrible.” 

The phone was still ringing. 

“I should get that,” Sam said finally. 

“Not really,” Luc said. 

Sam flipped his phone open, sighing. “Hi, Dean.” 

“Hey, Sammy,” Dean said. 

“It’s Sam.” 

“Right, Sam, I have a case!” Dean said excitedly, “And it looks like a lot, so I was thinking you might wanna help?” He sounded horribly hopeful. 

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “What’s the case, Dean?” 

“They found a body completely drained of blood,” Dean said, “And then the next day a businessman couldn’t stop writing to the point where his hand came off. So he picked up his pen in his left hand and wrote until that hand fell off as well. They found him lying on the desk, bled out and with his pen clutched between his teeth.” 

“That does sound like our kinda thing,” Sam admitted. He hoped Luc couldn’t overhear Dean’s half of the conversation. That would be awkward. 

“So, will you help?” 

“I don’t know,” Sam said, “It hasn’t been very long.” 

“It’s been four days, Sammy,” Dean pleaded, “I miss you. It’ll be perfectly safe. You can even bring your boyfriend if you want.” 

“Dean, he’s- you know,” Sam argued. 

“Bring him along and leave him at the library,” Dean offered. 

“Huh,” Sam said, “It would make me feel better to have him there. I’ll ask.” He lowered the phone. “Luc?” he asked hesitantly. 

“What is it?” Luc asked. 

“My brother needs my help with this- thing,” Sam explained, “And- it’s complicated. Can you come with me?” 

Luc blinked. “Sure. What will we be doing, and for how long?” 

“Um,” Sam said, “I can’t tell you, and I don’t know?” He grinned nervously. 

Luc sighed. “Are you actually going to let me help with your super secret spy thing, or do you want me to stay in your motel room for the next month?” 

“It won’t be a month!” 

“So, the second one,” Luc said. “Sounds like fun,” he added sarcastically. 

“Please?” Sam begged. 

“You’re turning me into a pushover, Sammy,” Luc said, leaning over to kiss Sam. 

Sam’s brain short-circuited. There were only chapped, cold lips pressing against his. A tongue against his lips. A tongue against his tongue. And then the tongue was gone and he whined and tried to get it back. 

“You’re still on the phone with your brother,” a cold, amused voice purred in his ear. 

Sam figured out which hand held the phone and snapped it shut, dropping it to the floor. He reached out for Luc. “Kiss me.”

Luc pushed Sam down on the bed and ravished his mouth. 

..

..

“That’s a lot of blood,” Dean noted. 

“It looks like the body was entirely drained,” Sam said, “I’d thought vampire when we heard about this, but then the blood would be gone. It looks like his blood just somehow got outside of his body.”

“There’s gotta be a hole somewhere where the blood got out,” Dean said. 

“If so, there’s no note of it in the coroner's report.”

“A weird hoodoo thing?” Dean suggested. 

“Let’s head to the crime scene,” Sam said, “And we’re bringing Luc.” 

“Uh, it’s a crime scene,” Dean argued. 

“Uh-huh,” Sam said impatiently. 

“How are we gonna explain checking for hex bags to Mr. White Picket Fence?” 

“I’ll handle it,” Sam said, “Luc thinks we’re spies. Just don’t say witches in front of him; he’s not stupid.” 

“Do we have to work with Luc?” Dean whined. 

“Are you  _ scared? _ ” Sam challenged. 

“Fine,” Dean snapped, “But it’s your fault if he figures stuff out and dumps you, ass.” Dean crossed his arms and pouted. 

“ _ Jerk _ .”

“Bitch,” Dean retorted. 

..

..

“Hey, Dean and I are going to check out the crime scene,” Sam said, “Do you wanna come?” He smiled hopefully. 

“No, Sam, I’m very busy channel surfing. Not bored to death at all,” Luc teased. 

“Sorry,” Sam said guiltily. 

“It’s fine,” Luc said, “I knew what I was signing up for. So, am I allowed to know what the crime scene’s about?” 

“It’s- where the crime happened,” Sam said. 

“Very informative, Sammy,” Luc noted sarcastically. 

Sam shrugged. “Sorry. Do you want to see it?” 

“I can see it? You’re not going to blindfold me?” Luc asked with fake astonishment. 

“Sorry.” 

“You say sorry too much,” Luc complained, leaning over to give Sam a kiss. Sam kissed back hesitantly and desperately, so Luc pulled back after a moment and studied him. “OK, what happened?” 

“Nothing,” Sam said, ducking his head. 

“Your shoulders are slumped, you have trouble meeting my eyes, and you’re taking my teasing way too seriously,” Luc said, “What happened?” 

“Nothing,” Sam repeated, sniffling. 

Luc pulled Sam’s chin up and met his eyes. “Tell me what is wrong,  _ now _ .” 

Sam bit his lip. “I’m fat.” 

Luc looked confused. “Sweetheart, you’re fat shaming yourself? You’re pregnant. You’re supposed to gain weight.” 

“I don’t like it,” Sam whimpered, poking his belly angrily, “I shouldn’t be showing for ages, and I’m not, I’m just fat. I’m going to turn into one of those middle aged guys with a pot belly who never exercises and just whines all the time. I just know it.” 

“Mood swings are also a normal symptom of pregnancy,” Luc said calmly, pulling Sam into his arms and rubbing his back. 

“I don’t like it,” Sam whined, but he melted against Luc and started calming down in spite of himself. 

Luc slid his hand under Sam’s shirt and felt his stomach. It took Sam a moment to remember what he was upset about and what Luc was doing. 

“Ew, don’t do that,” Sam complained. 

“You’re officially adorable,” Luc said, pressing his lips to Sam’s. Icy cold, chapped lips pressed against soft, warm lips in a long kiss that got more passionate by the second. And then there was a knock at the door. 

“Are you guys coming?” Dean’s voice called. 

“One moment,” Luc called back. He kissed Sam one last time, and then they left the motel to work the case with Dean. 

“OK,” Dean drawled, “Hop in the car, lovebirds.” 

Luc stared at Dean for a long moment before he got in. Dean shifted nervously and sucked on his lollipop. 

Sam looked back and forth between them. “Is there something going on I should know about?” he asked. 

“Nope,” Dean chirped, “Let’s do this.” He spun Baby out of the parking lot and drove down the road towards the crime scene. 

..

..

Luc knelt on the ground next to where the police had found the body. “Oh, look,” he said, “Are candy wrappers normal on crime scenes?”

Sam took it thoughtfully. “Probably. Although there are a lot of them around here. I wonder…” 

“What, Sammy?” Dean asked. 

“It’s Sam,” Sam said, “I’m gonna go see the vic’s wife for a minute.” 

“I’m gonna keep looking here,” Dean said, “There must be something helpful somewhere.” 

“I’ll stay too, Sammy,” Luc said, standing up. 

“K,” Sam said, kissing Luc for a long moment before he went to find the widow. He turned at the door. “Bye, Luc.” 

Luc blew Sam a kiss, and Sam blew one back. 

“He never lets  _ me _ call him Sammy,” Dean whined when Sam was gone. 

“Yeah, and you’ve known him for how long?” Luc asked scornfully. 

“I’m his brother,” Dean argued, insulted, “I’ve known him his whole life.” 

Luc raised an eyebrow. “Whose annoying little brother are you?” 

“Hey!” Dean argued, “You’re not supposed to have officially figured it out yet!” 

Luc crossed his arms. “I’m not sure whether to stab you or hug you. It’s been millennia, Gabriel.” 

“How about you just let me prank Sam?” Dean suggested hopefully. 

“Will you change your face?” Luc asked, “It’s making me want to stab you even more than usual.” 

“I’m putting it back when Sam gets back,” Dean said, turning into Gabriel, crossing his arms and pouting. 

“No, you won’t,” Luc said. 

“Well, why not? You can’t- order me around…” Gabriel stared at the handcuffs on his wrists. “Hey!” 

Luc raised his hands. “You picked to not pay attention.” 

Gabriel snapped his fingers. And snapped his fingers again. He snapped with increasing desperation three more times before giving up. “OK!” He turned a big, fake smile on Lucifer. “Great prank, brother. Haha. Now, can you take them off?” 

“Say please and I might.” 

“Please!” 

“I said might, Gabriel,” Lucifer pointed out. 

“Please please please please?” Gabriel begged. 

“Hmm. No.” 

“Pretty please?” Gabriel asked. 

Lucifer’s expression softened for a brief instant. “Not a chance, Gabe.” 

“But you used my nickname, Luci! That’s means you’re not mad at me!” Gabriel used his puppy eyes and tried to look as cute as possible. 

“I called you Gabe, which let’s you know that you’ll just be my slave forever, and not die,” Lucifer said. 

“Drat,” Gabriel complained, “Please, Luci? We’re brothers. You love me. You can’t keep me as a  _ slave _ .” 

“Did you lift a finger to help me when I got thrown in hell right in front of you?” Lucifer asked. 

“Weeeell, no-oo,” Gabriel said, “But- but- I helped you that time Raphael dyed your hair in rainbow stripes! That counts, right?” 

“Hardly,” Lucifer said harshly, “And I’m pretty sure you put her up to that, anyway.”

“I did not either,” Gabriel whined. 

“So get this, Dean, it is definitely a trickster,” Sam said, walking in with his head in a book, “I think it’s the same one as last time, too. The pattern shows that-” his voice trailed off as he looked up. “What’s going on?” 

“Why, hello, Sammikins,” Gabriel chirped, “Great to see you. And is that Luci’s baby you got there?” 

“Luci?” Sam wrinkled his nose. “Do you two know each other?” 

Lucifer said no at the exact same time as Gabriel said yes. They scowled at each other. 

“You’re gonna disown me now, Luci?” Gabriel asked, offended. 

“Shut the hell up, Gabriel,” Lucifer snapped, “Sam, don’t worry about it.” 

“What is going on?” Sam asked, “Who are you?” 

“Well, my name’s Lucian, not Luc,” Lucifer said, “I shorten it. Gabriel was my college stalker. I wondered why the restraining order never worked.” 

“You’re lying to me,” Sam said softly, turning his face away. 

“No, I’m not,” Lucifer said. He sounded honest. 

“And that’s complete bullshit,” Gabriel popped in, “Lucifer’s my brother. I dunno if he’s ever been to college, but it’d be stupid cuz he’s the devil.” 

Lucifer punched Gabriel in the head as hard as he could. 

“Oh, ow,” Gabriel whined, “Ow ow ow.” 

Sam swallowed. “Is that true? Luc? Look me in the eyes and tell me he’s lying.” 

Lucifer met Sam’s eyes. “He’s lying, Sam. Don’t believe a word he’s said. None of it is true.” 


	8. It'll Be Fine

Sam laughed. “Yeah right. Bye.” He turned and ran as fast as he could to the Impala. 

    Lucifer chased him out to the parking lot. “Sam, stop! Now.” 

Sam stopped and turned back. Even now, he simply couldn’t make himself immediately disobey that voice. “Go away,” he pleaded. 

“Sammy, don’t you trust me?” Lucifer asked. 

“Get the hell away from me, Lucifer!” Sam snapped, “I’m going.” He ran to the car and tried to yank the door open, but it was stuck. 

“Just listen to me for a minute!” 

“No!” Sam yelled, “I hate you. I never want to see you again! Let me  _ go _ .” 

Lucifer’s face paled. “Fine. I hate you too.” He vanished, and the car door opened. 

Sam scrambled into the car and drove away as fast as he could. 

..

..

“Thtop,” Gabriel whimpered, “Uci, pease.” His mouth wouldn't work right anymore. “Nn. Ou thaid you w-weren’t oing ou-to kill m-me. P-pleath.” 

“I haven’t killed you,” Lucifer snapped, driving another angel blade into his brother’s stomach. “These can’t kill you, idiot. They just hurt like hell.” 

Gabriel choked up blood. “Luthi, stop,” he begged. 

Lucifer snorted. “Forget it. You drove Sam away. I lost my kid, and it’s all your fault. You’re going to suffer for it.” He raked his nails through Gabriel’s cheek. Blood leaked up through the gashes and ran down Gabriel’s face with his tears. 

“Y-you dwove Tham aw-way,” Gabriel said weakly, “It’s your f-f-faulth. Ou l-lie ath the t-time. Drive e-everone way. Wath sure to happen. Mnn.” 

“That’s not true!” Lucifer hissed, snatching the angel blade roughly out of Gabriel’s stomach. 

Gabriel yelped in pain as his skin and grace tore. The angel blade couldn’t kill him as he was an archangel, but it could hurt him a lot quite easily. It was especially destructive in Lucifer’s skilled hands. 

Lucifer stabbed the blade into Gabriel’s neck and yanked it out through the side, nearly decapitating him. Blood poured from the ragged wound, and grace seeped out. The high pitched screech of Gabriel screaming with his true voice tore through the air and made Lucifer smile. He plunged his hand into the wound in Gabriel’s neck and tore out a fistful of Gabriel’s grace. The grace tried to escape his hand and get back to Gabriel, but Lucifer clenched his fist and the grace burned to ash. 

“I’ll leave you to heal yourself, little brother,” Lucifer said, smiling with fake sweetness and pressing a gentle kiss to Gabriel’s forehead. “Have fun in solitary.” He left. 

Gabriel cried quietly while he waited for his weakened grace to put him back together so his favorite big brother could tear him apart again. 

..

..

“I’m carrying a Nephilim,” Sam said quietly, “It’s kinda awful. I love her, you know. I can’t help it. I know she’s Lucifer’s child and probably completely cold and evil, like- like he’s completely cold and evil. The stupid thing is that I can’t even care. I’d destroy the world for my child. God, I’m an idiot. I ought to try to find a way to kill her, but I won’t and I can’t. I’ve only got months until she kills me by being born. Th-this is awful. Where can I even go? The only people I know are hunters, and they’d hurt my baby. And Lucifer, of course. What do I do? I- I can’t- I can’t do this. Luc doesn’t even care about me. Luc- Luc n-never cared about me. He played me. He played me so well. I think- oh, God, I think I’m in love with him. Ahhh! H-how am I supposed to live with this? Help me. Help me, I can’t…” He broke down sobbing. 

He wished anyone had heard him. 

..

..

A phone was ringing. Just a regular one, not the FBI one or anything like that. The caller id said Sam, so Bobby picked up. “Hey, kid.” 

“Hi, Bobby.” Sam’s voice was small and broken. 

“You don’t sound so good, Sam,” Bobby noted, “What’s wrong?” 

“I made a mistake,” Sam whispered, “Bobby, what do you know about Nephilim?” 

“Not a lot,” Bobby said, “They’re half human half angel crosses. The angels are usually fallen. Nephilim were supposed to be wiped out millennia ago, but I’ve heard vague stories of a few since then. They’re powerful. Why, you run into one?” 

“Um, what do you think about- do they have to be monsters?” Sam asked. 

Bobby considered that. “I doubt anything  _ has _ to be a monster. Now tell me what’s going on.” 

“I told you I was pregnant,” Sam said hesitantly. 

Bobby’s brain was quick with the connection. “Balls! Are you telling me you slept with a fallen angel?” 

“I slept with the devil,” Sam said weakly. 

“Balls!” Bobby repeated, “You sure, kid?” 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Sam said. He sounded miserable. 

“Idjit,” Bobby grumbled. 

Sam was quiet. 

Bobby sighed. “Is Satan still around?” 

“I ran away,” Sam said, “I’m sure he can find me. I don’t know how long I’ve got. I’m scared.” 

“Where’s your brother in all this?” Bobby asked. 

“He’s missing. I think the trickster- or the angel Gabriel, I’m not sure- kidnapped him. But I can’t contact him and he doesn’t know who Luc is. I- I don’t know if I could tell him, anyway. He hasn’t been very supportive, and he’d want to hurt my baby. He already wanted to hurt her, and he thought she was a human baby then.” 

“This sounds like something best sorted out in person,” Bobby said, “Head up to Sioux Falls. I’ll ward the house against the devil the best I can, and we’ll figure out what to do about Dean later.” 

“Thanks so much.” Sam’s voice broke. 

“Just get up here,” Bobby said. 

“Right,” Sam said, “I’ll see you in sixteen hours.” 

..

..

Dean slammed the cast iron skillet into the door again. This had to work. It looked like a normal wooden door, but he couldn’t pick the lock, find the key, or break it down. It was ridiculous. He was locked in what appeared to be a perfectly normal house, but the phones didn’t work and none of the doors or windows would break or open. He was stuck in the stupidest trap ever. It’d been over a day, and he still couldn’t find any way out. 

Sam would know how to get out. Dean was great at fighting, but he needed a living, breathing, vaguely human shaped target. Some kind of magic hoodoo keeping him stuck in a house? It was hopeless. Maybe he should look for a hex bag. 

Dean was hunting through the cabinet under the kitchen sink, hoping to find a hex bag or another clue, when he felt eyes on him. He slowly, carefully pulled out his gun before whirling around as he lifted it to point at whoever was staring at him. His target was a middle aged man dressed like an accountant. Dean would’ve thought he was just a normal human guy, but his posture was oddly stiff and he had an aura of inhuman power. 

“Who’re you?” Dean demanded gruffly, not lowering his gun. 

“I’m an angel of the Lord,” the man said. His voice was low, and as stiff as his posture. 

“Yeah, and I’m the freaking president,” Dean said, “There’s no such thing.” 

“This is your problem, Dean,” the man said, “You have no faith.” 

“How d’you know my name?” Dean demanded, “Did you stick me here?” 

“We aren’t entirely sure how you got here,” the guy said, “Heaven didn’t move you here. We believe it to be Lucifer’s handiwork.” 

“Lucifer?” Dean asked, “Like Satan?” 

“Yes.” 

“Look, he doesn’t exist, and angels aren’t real,” Dean said confidently. 

The man stared at Dean for a long moment. Thunder rumbled, and lightning flashed outside the window. The shadow of a pair of wings appeared against the wall for a moment before vanishing. 

“Say you’re an angel and you’re telling the truth, why would Satan bother locking me in this house?” Dean asked. 

“His motives are not always clear,” the guy said. 

“Well, that’s helpful,” Dean snarked. 

The man just looked at him. 

“OK, what’s your name?” Dean asked finally. 

“I’m Castiel,” the guy said. 

“That does sound angelly,” Dean admitted, “So, Castiel, what do you want? Why show up?” 

“Lucifer has created a Nephilim,” Castiel explained, “We need to find it before it can be born.” 

“Like  _ Rosemary’s Baby _ ,” Dean said. 

Castiel stared at him. “I don’t understand.” 

“It’s a movie reference, man,” Dean said, “How have you not seen  _ Rosemary’s Baby _ ?” 

“I have never seen a movie,” Castiel said. 

It was Dean’s turn to stare. “Cas, what the hell?” 

“I’m from heaven, not hell,” Castiel said. 

“Yeah, not what I meant,” Dean said. 

“This conversation is irrelevant,” Castiel said, “We need you to let us into the house where the Nephilim is.” 

“If you’re really an angel, which I doubt,” Dean said, “why do you need my help to get mini Satan? Can’t you just storm the place and snatch the devil’s girlfriend?” 

“Boyfriend,” Castiel corrected. 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“The Nephilim’s carrier is male,” Castiel explained, “It’s your brother, Samuel.” 

“Sammy!? What the hell, Cas? Are you saying Sammy shacked up with the fucking devil?!”

“Yes,” Castiel said calmly. 

“No! That’s stupid. You’re lying!” Dean yelled, “Crap. It’s that Luc guy, isn’t it.” 

“We need to capture your brother and take care of the Nephilim before the situation can get more out of hand,” the angel said, “It’s critical that we reach it before it can grow to a point where killing it becomes impossible.” 

“So you can get it out of Sammy,” Dean said, relieved, “Good. So where is he?” 

“He is at Bobby Singer’s house in Sioux Falls, South Dakota,” Castiel reported. 

“And you can’t do this why?” Dean asked, remembering his earlier question. 

“They are using angel warding,” Castiel said, “We believe their intent was to keep Lucifer out, but they have blocked me out as well. Remove Samuel from the property or break any of the sigils around the house.” 

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Dean grumbled. If this guy was gonna help Sammy Dean really had no choice but to work with him. Even if his eyes were a stupid shade of blue. 

..

..

“Are you sure the sigils are working?” Sam asked nervously. 

“I’ve told you twenty times, Sam, I’m not sure,” Bobby said. 

“Sorry,” Sam said, “I’m just nervous. I don’t know what’ll happen if Lucifer shows up here.” 

“The usual protections against demons will be useless,” Bobby noted, “I’m not sure what’ll actually work besides the warding I found.” He flipped through his book. 

Sam went back to his own book, but he just read the same lines over and over without processing the words. He was too stressed and tired to work. 

“This says the only person who can fight the devil is the archangel Michael,” Bobby said, “It looks like even the other archangels would lose. It’s not looking good.” 

Sam shivered. “I’m gonna go take a nap,” he said, “I can’t concentrate. It’s not working. Nothing’s working.” 

An alarm went off. 

“What’s that?!” Sam demanded, panicking, “Is it Lucifer?!” 

“That’s the perimeter alarm,” Bobby said, “I don’t think Satan would be likely to set that one off.” He got up and checked some things. “It’s Dean.” 

“Dean?” Sam looked up hopefully. 

“He’s on foot,” Bobby said, “Could be him; could be a demon or a shapeshifter.” 

“He doesn’t know she’s a Nephilim,” Sam said uncertainly. 

“You go hide upstairs, and I’ll check if it’s him and break the news as carefully as possible,” Bobby said. 

“If he’s possessed I can’t leave you to go hide,” Sam argued. 

“OK, well, stay back from the door and don’t get stabbed,” Bobby said. 

“I’m not that tired,” Sam said. 

Dean knocked on the door. Bobby answered it, splashing holy water in Dean’s face and slashing his arm with a silver knife. 

Dean yelped, clutching his arm and staring at Bobby. “You expecting demons?” 

“I had a run in with a fallen angel,” Sam explained from behind Bobby, “We’re worried. What happened to you? You disappeared in the middle of the case.” 

“I had a run in with an angel,” Dean said, “A non fallen one. But I dunno that he’s really an angel. They’re probably all fakes.” 

“He’s real,” Sam said quietly, “Lucifer certainly is.” 

“It’s true, then,” Dean said. He exploded. “You idiot, Sam! You let the fucking devil fucking fuck you!? Son of a bitch.” 

Sam shrugged. “It’s not like I knew who he was, Dean. You met him, you talked to him, did you notice anything strange?” 

“Course I did,” Dean insisted immediately, “He was an evil creepo. He beat me up; do you think that’s normal?” 

“You threw the first punch, Dean,” Sam said, amused, “Luc told me.” 

“Oh, so now you’re calling the devil by a cute nickname?” Dean demanded angrily. 

Sam flinched. “No,” he whispered, “No, I’m not.” He ran from the room. 

Dean sighed. “Sammy!” He ran after his brother. 

“Go away,” Sam said. 

“Look, Sam, I’m never gonna be happy about you going at it with Satan, but I get that he tricked you and it wasn’t all your fault,” Dean said. 

“Hmph,” Sam grumbled, “Fine.” 

“I told you I ran into a guy claiming to be an angel,” Dean said hesitantly. 

“Yeah, you did,” Sam said, “What about him?” 

“Well, Cas wants to see you,” Dean said. 

“Cas?” Sam asked. 

“Er, Castiel,” Dean said, “It’s awfully long. I shortened it for him.” 

“Why would he want to see  _ me _ ?” Sam asked, “I’m carrying Lucifer’s child. Doesn’t that make me the least clean person on the planet or something? Or- that’s why he wants to see me, isn’t it.” 

“Yeah, kinda,” Dean admitted. 

“This Castiel person…” Sam started hesitantly, “He doesn’t want to hurt my baby, does he?” 

“It’s Satan’s,” Dean said incredulously, “I mean- no, he just wants to do some tests. He’s not gonna hurt your precious devil baby.” 

Sam studied Dean. “Are you sure?” he asked finally. 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure, Sammy,” Dean said. 

“Alright, I’ll trust you,” Sam said, “but we need a way to keep Luc away from me while I talk to Castiel.” 

Dean grumbled something disparaging under his breath. “Cas’ll take care of it,” he said finally, “Just come with me and it’ll be fine.” 

Sam nodded. “OK, Dean. I’m sure it’ll be fine.” He forgot to knock on wood. 


	9. Truth Hurts

“How far away did you say Castiel was?” Sam asked nervously. 

“A while,” Dean said curtly. 

Sam was quiet for a while. “Are you alright, Dean?” he asked finally, “You’re acting stressed.” 

“‘M fine,” Dean said gruffly. 

“Right, right, sure,” Sam said, unconvinced. 

Dean sighed. “This is for your own good.” 

“ _ What _ is for my good, Dean?” Sam demanded, “because that doesn’t sound good.” 

“Nothing,” Dean grumbled. 

“Dean,” Sam started sternly. 

“Don’t Dean me,” Dean interrupted, “It’s the best way, Sammy. You’ll get it sometime.” 

“No, I won’t!” Sam yelled, “What the hell are you planning?!” 

“You’re carrying the devil’s kid,” Dean said, “It enchanted you or something. You’ll feel better when it’s gone.” 

_ “No!” _ Sam yelled, “Don’t you dare, Dean! How is this her fault at all? You can’t try to kill my baby because of who Luc is! I won’t let you.” 

“It’s the spawn of Satan,” Dean argued, “I’ll save you, Sammy. Don’t worry.” 

The Impala was going seventy on the country highway. Sam tried to get his door open to jump out anyway, but he was locked in. He wondered if breaking the window might work as a way to get out of there. That would be worth trying as a last resort. 

“She’s my  _ baby _ ,” he hissed, “I don’t need saving. Let me out of this car, now.” 

“No,” Dean said confidently, “You’ll come around, Sammy. It’ll be ok.” 

Sam bit his lip. “Pull over and unlock the doors,” he said clearly, “Or I’ll call to Lucifer and he’ll get me out of here.” 

“Are you insane?!” Dean demanded. 

“Maybe,” Sam said, breathing speeding up nervously. “I’ll do it. You know I will.” 

“You’re nuts,” Dean said, “You’d call the devil to get away from me?” He almost looked hurt. “Sammy.” 

“You have ten seconds to pull over, or I’m calling him,” Sam said, “Ten.” 

“Don’t do this,” Dean ordered. 

“Nine, eight.” 

“Quit it,” Dean snapped, “You wouldn't dare.” 

“Seven, six, five,” Sam counted. 

“Shut up,” Dean groaned.

“Four, three.” 

Dean’s fist connected with Sam’s jaw in a blow he hadn’t expected and thus hadn’t prepared for at all. He hit back instinctively, but Dean had the upper hand and knocked Sam out. The car swerved dangerously during their fight and nearly crashed before Dean could get it back under control, but he managed. 

About three minutes later Dean reached his destination, where Castiel was waiting. Dean lugged Sam into the abandoned barn and laid him on the floor in front of Castiel. 

“Help him,” Dean said, “Get rid of it.” 

“My orders have changed, Dean,” Castiel explained. 

“What’re you talking about?” Dean demanded. 

“The easiest way to kill the Nephilim is to destroy the carrier,” Castiel said, leaning down and putting his hand on Sam’s forehead. Cas’ hand glowed, and light poured from Sam’s eyes and mouth. 

In the long moment it took Dean to understand what had changed, Sam died. 

“No!” Dean screamed. He punched Castiel in the face, breaking his fist. He punched Castiel again and again, until his fists were broken and bloody and Castiel was holding them still. 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said simply, releasing Dean and disappearing. 

“Get back here and bring him back!” Dean screamed, “Cas!” He fell to his knees next to Sam’s body, cradling it in his arms. A moment later the body vanished. 

“Sam!?” Dean screamed, “Sam!? Bring him back, you son of a bitch!” He screamed himself hoarse for hours in that old barn, but nobody came back. 

..

..

Lucifer had intended to give Sam a week or two to think before he tried talking to him again. Since Sam was staying in a house newly warded in an obvious attempt to keep Lucifer out, it was pretty clear he wasn’t in a talking mood. And Lucifer could live with that. Sam deserved his space. Lucifer was, of course, keeping an eye on him. It wasn’t like the warding worked. 

Lucifer had been torturing Gabriel when Dean talked Sam into leaving with him. It wasn’t until Lucifer happened to glance up and see Sam’s soul flying up to heaven that he realized what must have happened. He dumped Gabriel unceremoniously back in his cell and flew up to catch Sam’s soul. 

Lucifer caught the soul just before it could climb high enough to be enter heaven and escape him. Sam was scared and upset. He tried to fly out of Lucifer’s hands. Lucifer tugged the soul to his chest and tucked his wings to his back, making them both plummet back to earth. Sam wasn’t fighting anymore. He lit up, swimming closer to Lucifer and emitting a noise like a cat purring. 

Lucifer fought back a smile. “Aw. You like me, huh, Sammy’s soul?” 

Sam drifted upward a bit and clung to the skin under Lucifer’s chin. 

“That’s creative,” Lucifer noted, “Let’s get your body back, ok, sweetheart?” He summoned Sam’s body away from the warehouse where Dean had been sobbing over it. He tried to pull Sam off his neck, but Sam didn’t want to move. “Sam, you have to go back in your body,” Lucifer said sternly, “Get  _ off _ .” 

Sam emitted a high pitched whine to express his displeasure as Lucifer yanked him off his neck. Sam neatly attached himself to Lucifer’s hand. Lucifer could’ve sworn Sam’s purr sounded smug, and it wasn’t an emotion souls were supposed to be able to feel. 

“You’re a brat, Sam,” Lucifer told the glowing ball of light, “And I don’t like you. Now get back in your body so I can resurrect you.” 

Sam held onto Lucifer’s hand as Lucifer plunged his hand into Sam’s chest where his soul was supposed to be. “Stay,” Lucifer ordered, pulling his hand out. Sam’s soul came with it. Lucifer sighed. He twirled his hand in a circle to get Sam dizzy. 

Sam whimpered. He tried to cling to Lucifer’s hand, but he couldn’t get a grip. He floated in a loopy circle, disoriented and scared. 

Sam looked so lost that Lucifer couldn’t help cuddling him for a moment. Souls were so emotive and innocent that nobody could think they weren’t cute. Even a hardened soul came across as sweet and delicate, and Sam was far from hardened. 

Sam snuggled up to Lucifer, squeaking happily. It was a shame to plop him back in his body, but Sam needed to come back to life before there could be any negative effects on their baby. He was still dizzy enough that Lucifer was able to just push him down into his body’s chest and leave him there. He fussed unhappily, but Lucifer knew when Sam woke and understood what had happened he would want to be alive. Lucifer removed the injuries from the smiting and took away Sam’s exhaustion, but left him asleep. 

He carried Sam to his earth throne room since hell was no place for a living human. He sat on the throne and draped Sam over him. Sam would probably wake up in an hour or so, but until then he could take advantage of the fact that Sam was asleep and unaware that they’d had that big falling out over Lucifer being the devil. He held Sam close, stroking his hair and holding his hand and just generally enjoying being with him in a loving fashion. Fighting with Sam was hard, and trying to give him space after a fight was a nightmare. It hurt that he knew Sam wouldn't allow this if he were awake. 

Sleeping Sam was cuddly and responsive. Kind of like Sam’s soul. “Luc,” Sam mumbled tiredly. He might’ve been half awake; Lucifer wasn’t sure. “Luc,” Sam repeated, snuggling closer to Lucifer with a dreamy smile. “Cold. Love cold.” He fell back asleep. 

    Lucifer wondered if he could just keep Sam permanently asleep. This was so much nicer than having to try to actually sort things out. Maybe if he used the right spells Sam just wouldn't have to wake up and Lucifer could keep ignoring his problems. 

“Luc?” Sam mumbled again, “Where are we?” His eyes were half open. 

“You’re in my house, Sammy,” Lucifer told him. 

“Don’t you have an apartment?” Sam asked, yawning. He tightened his arms around Lucifer’s hand that he’d stolen. 

“I have an apartment, too,” Lucifer admitted, “But this is sort of my house.”

“Something happened,” Sam noted tiredly. He suddenly sat up. “You’re Satan.” 

“Don’t ask about the horns,” Lucifer said, trying to keep the tone light. 

Sam pulled away from him. “I’m in a throne room with the devil,” he said evenly, “Lucifer, what the hell is going on?!” 

Lucifer shrugged. “You just said it,” he grumbled. 

Sam jumped off of Lucifer’s lap and backed away from him. “Luc?” he asked, voice trembling. 

Lucifer just looked at him. 

Sam shivered and backed away a little farther. “It was all lies, wasn’t it,” he said, “Obviously. Nothing was real.” 

Lucifer laughed coldly. “What, did you expect me to introduce myself as the Prince of Darkness? I’m sure that would’ve gone over well.” 

Sam shook his head. “Better than lies.”

“You know the truth now, Sam,” Lucifer said, “What are you going to do with it?” 

Sam swallowed. “Put me back on earth,” he ordered fearfully. 

“You’re on it,” Lucifer told him, “I don’t spend all my time in hell. And it’s not good there for living humans like you.” 

“Well, put me back at Bobby’s house,” Sam pleaded. 

“No,” Lucifer said coolly, leaning back in his seat. 

Sam’s shoulders slumped. “Please.” 

“I said no!” Lucifer snapped. 

Sam flinched. “What are you going to do to me?” 

“Keep you here,” Lucifer said.

Sam’s lips trembled.  _ “Luc,” _ he pleaded. 

“It won’t be so bad, Sammy,” Lucifer promised, “You can have just about anything you want that won’t hurt you, and it’s just for four months. You can leave as soon as the baby’s born.” 

“That’s the one time I  _ won’t _ want to leave,” Sam argued, “And you know I’ll die. You’re lying, even now. I’m not gonna survive her birth, and you’re offering to set me free afterwards.”

“I didn’t lie; I was just mildly dishonest,” Lucifer said, “Your soul will be free to float up to heaven once you’re dead.”

Sam stared miserably at Lucifer. “Let me go.” He knew it was stupid and it wouldn't help to keep begging, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t stay here with the man who’d tricked him into thinking he cared. There was no way he’d survive that. 

“You got yourself  _ killed, _ Sam,” Lucifer snapped, “It won’t be happening again, because I’m not going to let you run around making stupid decisions anymore. You’re  _ mine _ .” 

Sam’s eyes flashed angrily. “I’m not yours, Luc. I’m not an  _ object _ , and you can’t own me. You can keep me locked up here, but it’ll be as a prisoner, not your slave.” 

Lucifer gritted his teeth. This conversation wasn’t going like he wanted. “I don’t want to fight you, Sam. Can we talk about this whole thing instead of fighting about it?” 

“No,” Sam snapped. 

Lucifer just looked at him, waiting. That worked on Sam. 

Sam’s resolve crumbled. “OK,” he said weakly, “Let’s talk about this.” 

Lucifer held out his hand to Sam. “I brought you here to save your life.” 

Sam came forward and took Lucifer’s hand. “What happened?” he asked, “I just remember Dean knocking me out.” 

Lucifer pulled Sam closer to him, placing his free hand over Sam’s stomach. “Dean made a deal with an angel. They were trying to kill our baby.” 

Sam shuddered. “And the angel killed me to get to her,” he guessed. 

Lucifer nodded. 

“Thank you,” Sam said, smiling a little. 

“I’m going to keep you trapped here, so that the angels can’t catch you and hurt you.” 

Sam sighed. “I don’t like it, but I can’t say I don’t get it. I don’t want our baby to get hurt, either.” 

“You can have just about anything you want, Sammy,” Lucifer said, “I don’t want this to feel like a prison.”

“But it is one,” Sam said dully, “Do I actually matter to you at all?” 

Lucifer considered how to answer that. “Sammy- you’re human, and you’re going to die. You’re too insignificant to matter to anyone.” 

Sam snatched his hand away from Lucifer, turning away and taking a few steps away from the throne. “Don’t sugar coat it,” he snarked, trying to keep tears from his eyes. 

“I’m trying to be honest,” Lucifer snapped. 

“Oh,  _ you’re _ trying to be honest!  _ You! _ When’ve you ever been honest? Spoiler alert, Luc,  _ never! _ All you do is lie and manipulate and get me to trust you over and over so you can break me! Well it isn’t working! Luc, get out of my life.” 

“I lied the  _ one time _ ,” Lucifer argued. 

“Yeah, one tiny lie,” Sam snapped, getting in Lucifer’s face, “You just lied about- oh, right, absolutely everything! None of it was true! You made me think- think-” Sam cut off, crying. 

“I know I lied, Sammy, but the relationship between us wasn’t a lie,” Lucifer said, “It was all true. I care about you as much now as I told you I did three days ago.” 

“Great,” Sam said, “More lies.” 

“I’m not lying,” Lucifer argued, “Sam, I care about you. I want to give you everything.” 

“I don’t want anything from you!”

Lucifer’s face darkened. “Fine.” He got up, taking Sam’s arm and marching him from the room. 

“Luc?” Sam asked, pulling against him, “Where are we going?” 

“Does it matter?” Lucifer snapped. 

Sam cringed back from him, but he couldn’t get away and Lucifer kept dragging him down the hall. 

“Will you let go of my arm?” Sam demanded after a while, “You’re bruising me.” 

“You’ve never cared before.”

“That was different,” Sam said angrily, “and you know it. Stop being a jerk on purpose, Luc.” 

“Since I lie all the time, I might as well be a  _ jerk _ , too, right, Sam?” Lucifer demanded, tightening his grip on Sam’s arm. 

Sam gave a little gasp of pain. “Luc, stop!” 

Lucifer’s fingers only tightened, and there was a nasty crack. 

“Ow!” Sam yelped, “Oh, ow. I think you broke my arm.” 

“It’s fractured,” Lucifer commented, letting go of Sam’s arm. “I didn’t intend to use quite that much force.” 

“N-next time I tell you you’re hurting me, stop,” Sam said. 

“Let me fix this,” Lucifer offered. 

“You broke it in the first place!”

“Just a fracture, Sam,” Lucifer said gently, “It’s my fault; let me help.” 

“Don’t touch me.” Sam’s lips were trembling. 

“If you want to have a broken arm, you can have a broken arm,” Lucifer yelled, “I’m not stopping you!” He grabbed Sam’s injured arm and broke it over his knee. 

Sam cried out in pain. He cradled his injured arm to his chest, glaring tearfully at Lucifer. “C-can you j-just take m-me wherever we’re g-going and be done with it?” he asked, blinking back his tears and trying to keep his voice steady. 

“Yeah,” Lucifer grumbled guiltily, “This way.” He led Sam with a light hand on his shoulder. He left Sam in the cell across from Gabriel’s. 

Sam curled up in the corner, crying. 


	10. Hold Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to happen. Oops. Plot next chapter, I guess. Anyway, I kinda like this chapter. I think it works.

“Wow, my brother’s a dick,” Gabriel commented. 

Sam scowled at him. “Who’re you supposed to be anyway, Gabriel?” 

“C’mon, Samsquatch, use your brain,” Gabriel said, “The devil’s brother who’s named Gabriel? It’s kinda obvious.” 

“You’re saying you’re the  _ angel _ Gabriel?” Sam asked, “I’d say a murderous trickster can’t be an angel, but I guess after Castiel killed me there’d be no point arguing that.” 

“Little Cassie killed you?” Gabriel asked, shocked, “He was so little! I mean, when I last saw him millennia ago he was.” 

“Why wouldn't you have seen him for millennia?” Sam asked, confused. 

“Eh, heaven got boring,” Gabriel lied, “I skipped out. Tricking people’s more fun.” 

“Heaven got  _ boring _ ?” Sam asked, “Why do I feel like you’re lying?” 

“Cuz I’m lying,” Gabriel drawled, snapping his fingers. Nothing happened. “Drat. I forgot the handcuffs.” 

“What were you trying to do?” Sam asked. 

“Make a lollipop,” Gabriel said, pouting, “Handcuffs shouldn’t be able to block magical powers. It’s unfair.” 

“So you can’t fly us both out here,” Sam mourned. 

“Wouldn't, anyway,” Gabriel said. 

Sam frowned. “Why not? You like being tortured now?” 

Gabriel shrugged. “It’s- it’s not-” His shoulders hunched. “I just want my brother back. Is that so wrong? Least he’s talking to me now.” 

“So you’re not trying to escape, even though you have a knife imbedded in your heart?” Sam asked. He sighed. “I get it. I’d- probably want to stay, too, if it was my brother.” 

“The only way I could really escape would be to call for help, but I won’t do that,” Gabriel said, “It’d be too messy. Michael and Raphael are the only ones who could help, and they’d just make everything worse. And I  _ love _ Lucifer. I have to find a way to help him.” 

“Is he helpable?” Sam asked miserably, “Because it doesn’t look like it from here.” 

Gabriel shrugged. “I have no idea. I’m just here- cuz.” 

There was a pause. 

“So, prisoners, huh?” Sam said, “What’re we supposed to do for the next four months?” 

“I think there are guards,” Gabriel said hopefully, “There have to be. You’re human, so somebody has to show up to feed you sometime. It’ll be less boring now.” 

“Are the guards demons?” Sam asked worriedly. 

“Yeah. Duh.”

“I don’t get along with demons very well,” Sam admitted. 

“You’re carrying their god’s baby,” Gabriel said cheerfully, “They’ll worship the ground you walk on.”

“I’m already the Boy-King,” Sam said, “Tons of the demons thought I’d lead their armies or whatever. And that didn’t make them be nice to me.” 

“So you can break out of here,” Gabriel commented. 

“How?” 

“Use your psychic powers,” Gabriel told him, grinning, “And then go talk to Lucifer.” 

“I can’t use those powers,” Sam said, “It’s wrong. They’re demonic.” 

“OK, two things,” Gabriel said, “A, your powers aren’t demonic, they’re Samonic. That sounded better in my head. But the power comes from you, not Azazel. Especially now that he’s dead. And b, you’re carrying Satan’s child. I don’t think demonic is something you should be worried about. At least your powers aren’t from the devil himself.” 

Sam sighed. “Maybe you’ve got a point,” he admitted, “but I don’t know how to use those powers. I was trying to pretend they weren’t there.” 

“All you have to do is find the switch in your brain that frees you,” Gabriel said, “It’s pretty easy. Once you find it. Just search your mind, and look for things that you’ve been lying to yourself about.” 

“Things I’ve been lying to myself about?” Sam asked, “Like what?” 

“Things about your humanity, probably. Things you think are bad that you don’t want to be, but are.” 

“I’m a perfectly normal human,” Sam argued frantically, “Oh, crap. I found the switch. It’s- it’s about Jessica. It’s about how I knew she was going to die. I could’ve saved her. I didn’t, because all those strange things always happened around me when I was a kid, and I wanted to be normal. So I wanted it to not be real, and I let Jess die.” 

“That’s rough,” Gabriel said, “But you found it. That’s good. Switch it.” 

Sam’s lips trembled. “I- It’s switched.” He raised his hand, and the cell door exploded. But Sam fell back, screaming and clutching at his head. 

“Broken door, great,” Gabriel said, “But are you ok?” 

“‘M- ‘m fine,” Sam gasped, “It just- it hurts. Oh. I didn’t think it would hurt. It never did before.” 

“The demon blood’s probably clashing with all the angel juice your baby has pumping through your system,” Gabriel said casually, “It’ll burn off if you use a lot of power.” 

“Wait. Will this hurt her?” Sam asked, eyes wide with worry. 

“Her?” Gabriel asked, “Your baby?” 

“Yeah,” Sam said, “Could my demon powers hurt her?” 

“Nope,” Gabriel said, “She’ll be completely fine. Healthy baby.” 

“Well, I’m free,” Sam said, stepping out of the cell. He paused. “Is it alarmed?” 

“Uh, maybe?” Gabriel tried. 

“See you,” Sam said, hurrying up the corridor. 

Lucifer appeared and slammed Sam against the wall. “Where do you think you’re going, Sam?” 

“What, did you think I’d sit around in a prison cell all day?” Sam demanded, “Luc, are you stupid?” 

“Not half as stupid as you,” Lucifer snapped, “Sammy, you got yourself killed!” 

“It was the one time!” Sam yelled back, “Anyway, fix my arm already, Satan.” 

“Oh, so now you want my help?!” Lucifer snapped his fingers, and Sam’s arm healed. His arms were also yanked above his head and held there by an invisible force. 

“Of course I want your help, idiot,” Sam snapped, “You were just being such a dick I didn’t want you touching me!” 

“Then why aren’t you complaining now?” Lucifer demanded, pressing himself against Sam. 

“Maybe I want you touching me, Luc!” Sam yelled furiously. He smashed his lips into Lucifer’s icy ones in a clumsy, forceful kiss. Lucifer kissed back harshly. He broke the kiss, grabbing Sam’s hair and yanking his head back. A moan slipped from Sam’s lips as Lucifer ground their bodies together with no gentleness or finesse. Lucifer sucked hickies into Sam’s neck, biting hard enough at one point to leave blood trailing down Sam’s neck. 

“Luc, I want you- I want you in me,” Sam gasped, rutting desperately and pulling against the magic restraining his arms. _ “Luc.” _

“You stupid human,” Lucifer complained. He tore Sam’s pants apart in his hurry to get them off and left Sam naked from the waist down. 

“You’re replacing those,” Sam said crossly. 

Lucifer shoved two fingers in his mouth to get them wet, and then yanked Sam’s legs up and apart, supporting them in the air with magic and leaving Sam’s ass exposed. 

“Take me already!” Sam demanded. 

“You’re a mouthy ape, you know that, Sam?” Lucifer snapped his spit slicked fingers, cutting off Sam’s voice. 

Sam mouthed at him furiously. Lucifer shoved two fingers into his asshole and thrust them back and forth. Sam’s hips jerked at the pressure, the cold, the anger. Lucifer kissed Sam again, shoving in another finger. Sam bit down on Lucifer’s lower lip hard enough to make  _ him _ bleed, too. 

“OK, that’s prep enough for a moronic  _ brat _ like you,” Lucifer snapped, yanking his fingers out of Sam’s hole and snapping his pants away. 

Sam whimpered at the empty feeling as his hole clenched down on nothing. Then Lucifer shoved his dick in, snapping his hips forward and giving Sam no chance to adjust. Sam couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. It was rough and hard and it hurt so perfectly. It burned and rubbed and it was cold and hot. He was embarrassingly close already. 

Sam keened soundlessly, meeting Lucifer’s thrusts as they tore him open mercilessly. He was open and desperate and wanting. It was cold, so cold. He was screaming Luc’s name, and he wished he was making a sound so he’d have something to hold onto. He needed- he needed something, this was too much. 

And Lucifer’s lips met Sam’s again, and the kiss was warm and angry, and the lips were cold and chapped and powerful. Sam kissed back, holding onto the coldness and the passion he felt from Lucifer through it. Maybe he could get used to living with the devil. 

Lucifer’s hand closed around Sam’s cock, feverously jerking him off. Sam threw his head back, gasping helplessly as his hips jerked. A few strokes later he came, spurting cum across their bodies. His eyes rolled back, spots dancing in them. 

Lucifer pushed his hand across Sam’s throat, and suddenly Sam could make noise. 

“You alright?” Lucifer asked. 

“Course I’m fine,” Sam said weakly, blinking the spots out of his eyes. “Will you keep thrusting? I still- I still want-” He cut off as Lucifer pulled out. He spun Sam around, tweaking the bonds so that Sam’s wrists didn’t hurt in the new position. And then he pushed back in, sinking in farther than he had before and thrusting slowly and deeply into Sam’s pliant body. 

“This what you wanted?” Lucifer asked, tugging on Sam’s hair. 

Sam moaned. “Luc. Luc. Luc please.” 

There was rubbing, and it was cold and Sam felt so exposed and open. He was helpless. He loved this kind of helplessness. And it was cold and full and aching and deep. His thighs quivered, and he moaned. 

The wall was hard, and warmth seeped from it. It dug into his arms. And Lucifer pressed against him from behind, cold and hard. His hands left bruises. His teeth were bloody and cold and there were bite marks in Sam’s shoulders. His cock plunged deeply into Sam and left him exposed and full and made him feel wanted and cold, so cold. His thighs were shaking and jerking uncontrollably. His hole was open and red and there was pressure and thrusting and rubbing and taking. He spilled over the edge for the second time, the clenching in his hole knocking Lucifer over the edge with him. 

Lucifer released Sam’s arms and pulled him down to the ground, lying behind him and wrapping his arms around Sam’s torso. He stroked his cool hand up and down the arm that he’d broken earlier, inspecting it. 

“Whatcha doing?” Sam slurred tiredly. 

“I shouldn’t’ve hurt you,” Lucifer said, pressing his face against the back of Sam’s neck. 

“Duh,” Sam groaned, “Can I have a ‘sorry’ now?” 

Lucifer gritted his teeth. He hesitated for a while. “Oh, Sammy, I am sorry,” he said finally. 

“That’s ok,” Sam said tiredly, “I forgive you.” 

“If the moment’s over, can you guys put pants on?” Gabriel demanded crossly, “I don’t need a close up of my brother’s butt! I need brain bleach after this.” 

Lucifer laughed. 

“This isn’t funny!” Gabriel wailed, “I need my archangel blade; I wanna stab myself in the eyes! Find your own corridor for half naked wall sex.” 

“Sorry, Gabe,” Sam said, chuckling. 

“This is my corridor,” Lucifer said smugly, “I own this whole place.” 

“Do you own your bedroom?” Gabriel snarked. 

“Good idea,” Lucifer said, “Bye, Gabriel.” 

Sam and Lucifer appeared in a bed, tucked under soft blankets. 

“I want a shower, but now I just wanna sleep here,” Sam said, rubbing the corner of the blanket against his cheek. 

“Bath time,” Lucifer said, “You can sleep afterwards.” 

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Sam yawned. 

Lucifer climbed out of bed and pulled Sam up with him. He kept his arms around Sam as he led him over to the bathroom. The tub was easily big enough for two. The water started off warm, which honestly annoyed Sam. The cold press of Lucifer against him contrasted with the warmth of the water in the most annoying way. 

“Make the water colder,” Sam ordered grumpily. 

“Bossy,” Lucifer complained, but the water cooled down and Sam purred contentedly. “Are you a cat or a human?” Lucifer asked, amused. 

“If I were a cat would I like cold?” Sam asked, “And can we get a dog?” 

“We’re not getting an overbred, fancy, disgusting dog, but a mutt would be fine.” 

“You’re weird,” Sam said, “But let’s get a mutt. A puppy.” 

“We can visit the animal shelter later today,” Lucifer suggested. 

“I love dogs,” Sam said dreamily. 

Lucifer traced his fingers across Sam’s bruised and bitten shoulders, humming unhappily. “I want to remove these.” 

“Why?” Sam asked curiously. 

“Because you’re hurt,” Lucifer said. 

“I was begging for it,” Sam said, “but if you don’t like them, they would be more comfortable healed.”

Lucifer pressed a tingling, open mouthed kiss to Sam’s biggest, darkest bruise. It vanished with a sensation that made Sam moan. 

    “Luc,” he whined, “Do it again.” 

Lucifer kissed away all the bruises, teeth marks, scratch marks, and other assorted injuries all across Sam’s body until Sam was a moaning mess. 

“Luc, please. Touch me. Want you in me. Please. Fuck me. Oh, oh Luc.” 

“I’d fuck you, but your asshole’s still a bit of a mess from earlier,” Lucifer explained, gently massaging Sam’s inner thigh with one hand and thumbing his nipple with the other. 

“Luc, please,” Sam almost sobbed. His thighs shook, and his cock was stiff and flushed with pressure. 

“Hmm,” Lucifer said contemplatively. He brought his hand over to toy with the edge of Sam’s abused hole. “Can you cum with just one finger in you?” Lucifer challenged. 

Sam whimpered desperately. “Probably,” he gasped out. 

“Let’s find out,” Lucifer purred, rubbing the pad of his finger across Sam’s hole. He circled Sam’s hole at an inconsistent pace, sporadically letting his nail catch and pull at the delicate skin. 

Sam’s hips kept trying to thrust forward, so Lucifer held them still. His hands were firm and cold, holding Sam’s legs open and leaving him helpless and open and empty. His finger was cold, and it dug and pushed and rubbed. Sam’s breath came in gasps. His fingers clawed at the sides of the tub, but he was too distracted to get a grip on them. It left him feeling even more vulnerable. He was so completely in Lucifer’s hands. One finger, that wasn’t even in him yet, had turned him into a vulnerable, needy mess. 

Lucifer wriggled the tip of the finger inside, pushing and rubbing against the rim. It was cold and hot and explosive. Sam wanted. He wanted so much. He had to have more. He had to. 

“Luc. Luc. Please. Ah. More. Luc, Luc, please. Ah!” 

Lucifer his finger farther inside, curling it around and pushing it roughly against the soft, moist flesh of Sam’s loose ass. The walls clenched as Lucifer’ thrust his finger repeatedly into that point. The finger rubbed harshly against the side of his rim, making Sam’s thighs tremble. His breaths were shallow and his head spun. 

“Luc. Luc. Luc! Luc,” Sam chanted, moaning wildly and shaking. 

“Love watching you, Beauty,” Lucifer said, voice rough with arousal, “Cum for me.” He shoved his finger in more roughly, and Sam came. The new nickname, the extra hard thrust, and the order were well more than enough. Lucifer jerked himself off watching Sam and came a moment later. They lay in the tub, spent and satisfied. 

“Beauty?” Sam asked. 

“I like descriptive endearments,” Lucifer said, kissing Sam’s forehead warmly. His lips were like ice, but warm was still the only word for that kiss. “Do you mind it?” 

“No,” Sam admitted, “You can call me that, Luc.” 

“Then I will, Beauty,” Lucifer said, curling his arms around Sam and holding him close. 

Sam was strangely happy. In some ways, things were still broken between him and Lucifer, but for a moment their problems looked small. They could find a way to heal. As long as they really cared about each other and tried to make this work, what could go wrong? 

Sam shivered. It was so cold. He never felt really warm around Lucifer, and he didn’t usually mind, but he was too cold for comfort in the water. “Luc?” 

“Yeah?” 

“It’s cold.” 

“C’mon, Beauty,” Lucifer said, climbing out of the bathtub and snapping up some towels. Lucifer snapped himself dry, but took the time to gently and carefully hand dry Sam. He wrapped Sam in warmed towels and led him back to the bedroom. 

“Can I have a comb?” Sam asked, sitting on the edge of the bed, “I don’t want my hair to dry messy.” 

“Can I comb it for you?” Lucifer asked, sitting down next to Sam. A comb appeared in his hands. 

“Sure,” Sam said, “No pulling.” 

“No pulling,” Lucifer agreed. He reached up and started slowly untangling Sam’s hair. The act was strangely intimate in a way that Sam and Lucifer weren’t used to being with each other. There was an innocence to it that changed up the familiar closeness and made it something more. 

Lucifer finished combing Sam’s hair and sat back, feeling a bit uncertain. Sam turned towards him, reaching up to cup his cheek and looking into his eyes. “Thank you,” Sam said softly. 

“Anytime, Sammy,” Lucifer said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind Sam’s ear. 

“Sleep?” Sam asked. 

Lucifer sighed. “There are things I have to do,” he said, “Sleep, Beauty. Come find me when you’re done napping.” 

“OK,” Sam said, crawling onto the middle of the bed and climbing under the covers, “See you, Luc.”

“Sweet dreams,” Lucifer said, smiling fondly at Sam as he left. 


	11. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I have a side ship, now, with this chapter. Weird. Hope nobody minds.

It was night, just beyond the outskirts of a medium sized town. Clouds covered the sky, keeping star and moonlight from getting through. Lily Ridge Road intersected Main Street and created a neat crossroads. Dean Winchester knelt in the middle of the road, tearing a hole in the ground. He finished making it deep enough and took a step back, rechecking to make sure it was in the dead center of the crossroads. It was. 

Dean picked up a beaten up shoebox, opening it to look through the contents. A little plastic bag full of dirt from a graveyard. A bone from a cute black cat with one ear missing and a white splotch over one eye. The only other thing in the box was a photograph of Dean. It was ready. 

Dean quickly scanned the devil’s trap that surrounded the clearing before kneeling and putting the box in the hole. He filled it up, patting the dirt down into it. And he waited. And waited. “Hello?!” he called finally, “Crossroads demon?! Show up!” 

“Dean Winchester,” a sultry girl’s voice said from behind him, “What a pleasant surprise.” 

Dean hurried out of the devil’s trap. 

The girl looked down and scowled. “Really? This isn’t going to make me eager to deal, Dean.” 

“I’ll make this easy,” Dean said, pulling out the Colt and aiming it at her, “Bring my brother back, or I kill you.” 

“No,” the girl said. 

“No?” Dean asked, “Why the hell not?! You bring him back!” 

“I can’t! He’s not dead!”

Dean paused, baffled. “You’re lying.” 

The girl snorted. “No, I’m not.” 

“What happened, then?” Dean demanded, “He was dead.” 

“Well, that’s none of  _ your _ business, is it?” the girl asked haughtily. 

“Of course it’s my business, it’s my damn brother!” Dean snapped. 

“Let me out of the devil’s trap, and I’ll tell you what your precious brother is doing right now,” the girl bargained. 

Dean considered that. “Tell me, or I shoot.” 

She thought. “Fine. But you won’t like it.” 

“Spill,” Dean ordered. 

“Poor little Sam Winchester,” the girl cooed, “He’s locked in Lord Lucifer’s dungeons. Beaten and bloody, crying. He’s in a bad way. He won’t die, of course. He won’t have a chance to die until he’s suffered-” 

“Shut up!” Dean interrupted, “You- you’re lying! That can’t be- oh, Sammy. Where is he?!” 

“Hell,” the girl said sweetly, “You won’t reach him there. You’ll never see your brother again. You’ll just have to live knowing that he’s slowly, painfully living out his last few months before we kill him, trapped where nobody can help him. He’s screaming, bleeding- we know how to torture, you see. Sam’s never been in so much pain-” there was a gunshot, and she cut off.

..

..

“Luc,  _ please _ ?” Sam begged. 

“No,” Lucifer said, “Forget it.” 

“But he’s so cute,” Sam pleaded, “How can you possibly say no to him?” 

“He’s ghastly overbred,” Lucifer complained, motioning to the adorable two-year-old pug. “Beauty, I said we could get a mutt. That thing isn’t a mutt. I’m not getting it.” 

“But Luc- please? Pretty please? I have to have this one.” 

“You’ve ‘had to have’ two thirds of the dogs we’ve looked at so far,” Lucifer argued, “I think we can find another one you’ll love just as much.” 

Sam sighed. “But, Luc…” 

“Come look at this one,” Lucifer ordered, motioning to a cage a few away from the little pug Sam had found, “She’s adorable. Her name’s- Paws. What?” He scowled at the paper he was reading. “That name’s terrible.” 

Sam came to look at Paws. She was a little grey puppy with long, shaggy, coarse hair. She had mournful light brown eyes and an oddly shaped nose. Her ears were big and floppy; they seemed out of place on her head. “Oh, she’s adorable.” 

“See?” Lucifer asked, “Do you want this one?” 

“Not sure,” Sam said, looking at the paper as well. “She’s a rescue. Shy and skittish, but really sweet and friendly when she gets to know you. Good with gentle kids; doesn’t like other pets; needs lots of exercise and cooler temperatures- We should get her.” 

“Yes,” Lucifer said, pleased, “ _ This _ is a good puppy, Sam.” 

“You say that like there’s such a thing as bad puppies.” 

Lucifer pointed wordlessly to the chihuahua puppy Sam had wanted before the pug. 

“But she’s so cute!” Sam protested, “And she has those little ears and the bratty attitude. How could you say no?”

“One syllable, two letters, ‘n’, ‘o’, it’s easy,” Lucifer said, “No. But we can get-” his face twisted with disgust, “-Paws. As long as we change the name.” 

“I don’t care about the name,” Sam said, reaching his fingers through the cage bars to pet Paws’ head. She leaned into his hand with an excited yip. “Oh, she’s adorable. I love her.” 

Paws got up, excited, and bounced around the little cage, tail wagging. 

Lucifer studied her movement critically. “Zlida,” he said. 

“What’s that?” Sam asked. 

“Zlida, Beauty,” Lucifer explained, “Her name. Liquid, water. Watch her move.” 

“Zlida means water?” Sam asked. 

“It’s Enochian,” Lucifer said, still watching the puppy. 

“Zlida,” Sam said thoughtfully, “I like it. It’s a wonderful name, Luc.” 

“Alright, that’s settled then,” Lucifer said happily, “No  _ Paws. _ Ugh.” 

Sam laughed. “It wasn’t that bad. Zlida’s much prettier, though. Fits her better, too.” 

Lucifer flew Sam and their new puppy back to his palace. Zlida stumbled from the flight, shocked and wide eyed. 

“Sweetie?” Sam knelt next to her. “You ok, Zlida?” 

“Flying can be hard on mortal beings,” Lucifer said unconcernedly. 

“She’ll be fine, though, right?” Sam asked, petting her pretty fur. 

“No permanent damage,” Lucifer promised, kneeling next to Sam and petting Zlida as well. “Dogs are surprisingly pleasant creatures.” 

“Dogs are awesome,” Sam said. 

Zlida hopped onto Sam’s lap and licked his hand. 

“Aw,” Sam cooed. He picked her up, laughing as she licked his face. 

..

..

“So you see, Bobby, we have to get to hell, now!” Dean insisted urgently. 

“We can’t,” Bobby said simply. 

“What?! Do you mean you’re just giving up?! How could you-?!”

“Shut up and listen, yah idjit,” Bobby interrupted, “We’ll help Sam, but we’ll do it smart. Demons lie. I hate to say this, but Sam might be dead.” 

“Sam is not dead!” Dean insisted furiously, “He’s alive, hurt, and I’m gonna save him!” 

“How?!” Bobby demanded. 

“Somehow,” Dean insisted, “We can summon the devil and make him give Sam back.” 

“You’re talking about the  _ devil _ ,” Bobby argued, “How the hell do you intend to make him do anything?” 

“I’ll threaten him with the Colt,” Dean said, “It can kill anything.” 

“There are so many ways that plan could go wrong,” Bobby complained, “Going up against Satan with a gun is suicide.” 

“And Sam could be dying,” Dean said, “We’re gonna save him. This is the only way.” 

“What about calling him?” Bobby suggested, “I’m not saying it’d work, but we’ve got his phone number. It’s in Sam’s phone. He forgot it.” 

“I can’t threaten him with a gun over the phone,” Dean argued. 

“That’s part of the point,” Bobby said, “We don’t even know if the gun will work. Better to not make him mad.”

“And how do you think talking with the devil will go?!” Dean demanded, “He’s Satan. He’s evil. He stole Sammy.” 

“It’s worth a shot,” Bobby said, “Not like it could really make this worse.” 

“But then he’ll know we’re after Sam,” Dean said. 

“He’s not stupid, boy,” Bobby said, “He already knows we’re after Sam.” 

“Fine,” Dean grumbled, “Call the devil and try to talk nicely. ‘M sure  _ that’ll _ work.” 

..

..

A shrill ringing tore through the calm, placid atmosphere. Lucifer lifted his head off Sam’s chest to scowl at the night table the ringing was coming from. Zlida panicked and started howling. 

“Get the phone, I’ll get the puppy,” Lucifer said, sitting up and hopping off the bed to pick Zlida up. 

Sam sat up reluctantly. The caller id said ‘that hunter kid’. Sam wasn’t sure what that meant, but he picked it up. “Hello? Lucifer’s phone.” 

_ “Sam?!”  _

“Bobby?” Sam asked, “Oh, I probably should have called you earlier.” 

_ “Thank God you’re alive.”  _

“Thank Lucifer, actually,” Sam said, “He brought me back.” 

_ “Sammy!” _ Dean’s voice came through suddenly, and he was yelling. 

Sam held the phone away from his ear. 

_ “You’re alive?! You’re ok? You’re not being tortured?” _

“Whoa, Dean, calm down,” Sam said, “I’m fine.”

_ “How are you fine?!”  _ Dean demanded,  _ “And what are you doing with Lucifer?!”  _

Sam considered his answer for a few moments. “It’s complicated.” 

_ “Complicated, my ass!” _ Dean yelled,  _ “How the heck is that complicated, Sammy?”  _

“It’s Sam,” Sam said, sighing. 

_ “What are you doing answering  _ Satan’s _ phone for him?!” _ Dean asked incredulously. 

“He’s comforting Zlida,” Sam explained, figuring honesty might help calm the situation down, “The ringing scared her, I think.” 

_ “Who is Zlee-dah, and why should I care?” _ Dean asked. 

“She’s our dog, Dean,” Sam said tiredly. 

_ “Our?! Our! You have an  _ our _ with the devil?!” _ Dean yelled,  _ “Are you still letting him fuck you?!”  _

Sam scowled at the phone. “Luc? Can we trade? I think you might do better at handling Dean than me.” 

_ “What’s going on? Who’re you talking to?” _ Dean demanded. 

“Sure, Beauty,” Lucifer told Sam, carrying Zlida over to him and taking the phone. Sam took the calmed down Zlida and cuddled her. She licked his face, and he laughed. 

“Hello, this is Lucifer,” Lucifer said pleasantly into the phone. 

_ “Hey!” _ Dean snapped,  _ “You give the phone back to Sammy, douchebag.”  _

“No,” Lucifer said calmly, “You upset Sam enough that he passed the phone to me, and I’m keeping it. Now, what do you want?” 

_ “I want my brother,” _ Dean said crossly,  _ “Give him back.”  _

“Hmm, let me think,” Lucifer said, “How about- no.” 

_ “I’m gonna gank your ass,” _ Dean threatened. 

“Aw,” Lucifer cooed, “How  _ adorable. _ You work on how you’re gonna do that, k, sweetie?”

_ “You’re gonna regret this when I kill you, Satan,” _ Dean snapped. 

“Uh-huh,” Lucifer said condescendingly, “Now, hand the phone to Bobby, honeypie. The grownups need to talk.” 

_ “I will yank your guts out your throat!” _ Dean hung up. 

Lucifer burst out laughing. 

“What’d he say?” Sam asked nervously, setting Zlida down. She ran off somewhere. 

“Mostly a lot of empty threats,” Lucifer said, “I wouldn't worry about it.”

“He- he gets angry when he’s scared,” Sam said, “Maybe if I talked to him in person he’d calm down. He doesn’t do well when we’re not together.” 

“Sam, he got you killed! You can’t just go right back to him.” 

“But he’s my brother!” Sam argued, “And he didn’t mean it. He didn’t know Castiel was gonna kill me.” 

“No, he thought Castiel was just going to kill our baby,” Lucifer retorted. 

Sam shuddered. “You’re right. Trying to talk to Dean would be a bad idea.” Whatever happened, he had to keep his baby safe. She was more important than Dean’s comfort. 

..

..

“Sam Winchester is warded. I have no access to him.” 

“So, you’re saying you failed?” Zachariah hissed. 

“Yes.” Castiel’s face was expressionless, as always. He’d been reprogrammed so many times that it was a wonder he could still walk and talk at the same time. 

“You were supposed to kill that Nephilim,” Zachariah said. 

“I would have succeeded, had Lucifer not intervened,” Castiel said. 

“You have one more chance,” Zachariah said, “And fight dirty this time, Castiel.” 

“I do not understand what you mean.” 

“The younger Winchester boy, he’s intelligent,” Zachariah said, “And the older one’s dumb. Kidnap the older one, Dean, is it? Use him as blackmail and make Sam come to you. Spies report Lucifer isn’t bothering to keep the boy on lockdown; we’re not sure why. He should be able to escape.” 

“What if Sam doesn’t respond to threats?” Castiel asked. 

“Start killing his friends and family one by one, and film it so he can see,” Zachariah ordered. 

Castiel’s usual expressionlessness broke for half an instant before it was back. “It will be done,” he said calmly. There was no emotion in his voice. He vanished to find a way to kidnap Dean Winchester. 

..

..

This hadn’t been the best plan. In fact, it might be the worst plan he’d ever come up with. But he was here now, so he couldn’t just turn back. Dean was drinking at the bar. Humans make poor decisions under the influence of alcohol, so all he had to do was wait until Dean was intoxicated and then persuade him to leave with him. It would be easy to take him from the parking lot, where there were fewer humans and less chance they’d be seen. 

According to the research he’d done on Dean, Dean usually left the bar with a human female dressed in revealing clothing. So Castiel had done the logical thing. He’d enchanted himself to look like a human female with similar traits to the girls Dean usually left the bar with, and he had changed his clothes to some things he’d taken from a girls clothing store. 

Only, the bar was intimidating and weird. People were staring at him in ways that made him uncomfortable, the music was loud with inappropriate lyrics, there were people everywhere brushing against him, and the air smelled of illegal substances and human mating substances. To be frank it was awful. Castiel had no idea why Dean was here. 

He finally made it to the bar and sat down next to Dean. “Hello.” 

“Why, hello, sweetheart,” Dean said, winking. 

Castiel stared at him. He had no idea what he was supposed to do at this point in his plan, so he just stared into Dean’s eyes for a while. Dean stared back, mesmerized. 

It was Dean who broke eye contact. “I’m Dean,” Dean said. 

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said. This was where he was supposed to say his name, right? But he was undercover, so he shouldn’t tell Dean he was Castiel. What was he supposed to say? 

“You gotta name?” Dean asked after a moment. 

“Skylar,” Castiel said. 

“Makes sense,” Dean said, leaning forward, “You’ve got the sky in your name as well as in your eyes.” 

Castiel was confused. “I do not think that is correct. The sky is not in my eyes.” 

“It’s a compliment, Skylar,” Dean explained patiently, “It just means your eyes are gorgeous.”

“Oh,” Castiel said awkwardly. Humans were so weird. He wondered how much longer it was before he could leave. Maybe he could just teleport Dean out of here? But that seemed… he wasn’t sure. But he didn’t quite like the idea. He stared lostly into Dean’s eyes. 

“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?” Dean asked. 

“I want to kidnap you,” Castiel said honestly. He knew he should’ve lied, but he couldn’t come up with anything and Dean had him wrong footed. 

“Ooo,” Dean said, “Kinky. Well, you, sweetheart, can kidnap me anytime.” He laid his hand on Castiel’s, smiling. It was warm, with rough calluses. 

“Oh,” Castiel said again, confused, “Good.” 

Dean was leaning towards him again. Castiel leaned forward, too, thinking it was some human custom to not sit up straight. And this way he got a better look at Dean’s eyes. Only Dean was leaning too far forward, and Castiel wasn’t sure what to do. He froze for a moment, and Dean’s mouth touched his. 

Castiel was thoroughly confused. His vessel had a powerful, uncontrollable reaction to the feel of Dean’s lips against his. It was- unexpected, if not entirely unpleasant. And it was very confusing. Dean’s hand was on Castiel’s shoulder, and he was closer than he’d been before. His head was tipped sideways, and his mouth moved against Castiel’s. Castiel had no idea what to do, but his lips moved instinctively with Dean’s. And Dean’s mouth was warm and soft, with something gross and dirty and inherently human about it. 


	12. Blood, Tears, and Pain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter, but it needed to end here.   
> Do check the tags: I updated them.   
> The sex is *rough*. It might just be the roughest consensual sex I've ever written. I'll have to work on that. ;)

Lucifer’s hands were cold on the inside of Sam’s bare, spread thighs. His touch was too gentle, too soothing. It didn’t have the edge and the sexuality Sam wanted. “Can you be rough?” Sam begged. 

“I’m getting there,” Lucifer purred. 

Sam whined frustratedly, rocking his hips up against the air. He wished he could feel Lucifer’s nails. He needed. He wanted. Argh. 

Lucifer’s hands gently massaged Sam’s skin. His cold lips pressed soft kisses to the flesh above Sam’s knee. It was ghastly frustrating. Sam wanted closeness desperately, but this slow, gentle closeness just reminded him that Lucifer didn’t love him. He just wanted Sam’s body enough to use him while he waited for Sam to finish being pregnant and die. Sam was nothing to him. 

A lot of things happened in a moment, too fast for Sam’s human mind to follow. The next thing he knew, his hands were cuffed to the headboard. He was a bit far away from it, and the handcuffs dug sharply into his straining wrists. His eyes were held shut by a blindfold. The lack of sight made him nervous and increased the sense of helplessness he always felt around Lucifer. His legs were bent up and held apart, too far apart. It was just the right side of painful to have his legs forced open like that. 

Icy cold hands dug into his thighs. Bruising. Tearing. Sharp nails. Sam wasn’t sure if he was crying out from pain or arousal. Helplessness. Openness. Cold. Nails digging into fragile skin. Vulnerable. Open, so open. 

The nails tore viciously into his thighs, and he screamed. That was pain, all pain. Too much pain. He didn’t- he didn’t want it.  _ “Lu.” _ He whined helplessly. Blood ran down his thighs from the torn, broken skin. 

Cold, light fingers against the side of his face. Sam turned his head into the touch, desperate for any kind of comfort. It was there for a moment, soothing him, and then it was gone. He wished he could see. He wanted see that Lucifer was there, that he still cared a little. He couldn’t see. 

A hand came down hard on his ass. His hips jerked. “Ahh. Lu. Lu, please.” His words were broken and slurred. He tugged against the handcuffs, and they dug deeply into his wrists. He whimpered against the pain, his hands jerking reflexively and accidentally making the sharp cuffs dig deeper into his wrists. 

A cold finger pushed against his hole, rubbing dryly back and forth. His hole clenched, his thighs quivered. He let out a helpless, overwhelmed sob. 

Lucifer’s other hand was cold on his abused, bloody thigh. He massaged the skin around the cuts as he shoved a finger into Sam’s hole. Sam pushed against the finger, but he was still hurt and he couldn’t keep tears from pouring from his eyes. The finger pushed and rubbed, making Sam convulse. It felt good. He whined, rocking against it. 

Cold. Pain, pain, lots of pain, but pleasure, too. Rubbing, pressing, something in him. Feeling wanted. Close. Desirable. 

Nails dug into the same places as before. The finger was gone, the closeness was gone. Empty. Sam sobbed. Pain, blinding pain. Flesh tore under Lucifer’s cold fingers. Sam cried out brokenly. 

Cold hands pressed warm blood against his asshole. Fingers spread it all along his crack. Pushing. Rubbing. Wet. Sam whimpered. His hips shook, and he rocked weakly against Lucifer’s hands. He wanted Lucifer, but he felt so helpless and it hurt so much. He wanted Lucifer in him and with him. He wanted less pain. He wanted Lucifer to love him, take him, use him, spread him open and leave him vulnerable and taken and helpless and full. He  _ wanted _ so much, but it hurt. 

And then Lucifer’s cock pushed inside. It burned and hurt and rubbed and tore. Pain. He wanted, he wanted. Full. Taken. Desperate. Hurt. Pain. Helpless. 

“Please, please, please,” he sobbed, with no idea what he was begging for. 

Lucifer pulled most of the way out and thrust back in deeper. He set a brutally fast pace. The lack of prep hurt, and the blood for lube felt icky and warm and dirty and gross. The blindfold made Sam more helpless than usual, and he felt small. He wasn’t sure he felt wanted. Pleasure overtook the pain, but he couldn’t stop crying. He didn’t feel sure he was wanted. Lucifer was taking. He loved it. He wanted this. But he didn’t know- did Lucifer want  _ him _ ? 

The rubbing- The rubbing sensation was what always got to Sam. With blood as lube it felt so messy and dirty and warm. Warm against Lucifer’s cold. Rubbing. Pushing. Thrusting. Pressure on his torn thighs. Fast thrusts in his asshole. Sam was close. It was  _ so much _ . The helplessness- he loved the helplessness. 

“Please. Lucifer. More.” He was close. Thrusting. Rubbing. A painful slap on his rear. He jerked in shock, and it was just enough. He came. 

Nails on the wounds in his thighs tore him out of the afterglow. Lucifer was still thrusting harshly into his bloody hole. Dazed, his blindness was terrifying. He tried to move his hands to touch something, anything, but they couldn’t move. Pain. Fear. Thrusting. Blood. He whimpered, tugging lightly against the painful cuffs. 

A cold hand cupped the side of his face and smeared blood. Sam pressed his face against the hand helplessly. Tears fell. Snot clogged his nose, making breathing hard. 

“You alright, Beauty?” Lucifer’s voice was rough with arousal. It was warm. Grounding. 

“Ah,” Sam whimpered, “Lu. Lu.” He struggled for words. “W-want you. Please. Lu. K-keep-  _ ah _ .” 

Lucifer kept thrusting. Fast. Hard. Even. This was going to keep going for a while. Sam keened helplessly. Everything was so helpless in this. He was vulnerable. Open. Weak. It was either wonderful or awful. He didn’t know. He couldn’t think straight. 

Harsh palms pushed against the wounds. Cold. Pain. More thrusting, rubbing, deep. Wanted. He felt wanted. Overwhelmed. So much. Blood. Rusty blood smell on his face. Choking. Snot. Tears. Blood. Cold. Fingers. Cold, bloody fingers stroking his dick in counter rhythm to the thrusts. Hard, deep, taking thrusts. Harsh fingers jerking him off. Heat pooled. Cold fingers massaged his balls. Bloody hands, bloody face. Slick blood. Rubbing. Jerking. Heat. Wet. Open. Full. Thrusts. Deep. Taking. 

Uneven thrusts. Hands on his hurt thighs. Pain. Rubbing. Thrusting. Cold. Hands moved back to his wet, slick with blood cock. Pressure. A single stroke, and Sam came with a scream of Lucifer’s name. 

    Dazed. Spots in his eyes. So hard to not be able to see. Pain. Blood. Thrusts. Pressure. There was no pleasure after that second orgasm. Pain, pain, helplessness. Too much. He wanted it to stop, he needed it to stop. 

Nails dug into his thighs. Hurt. Tearing. Blood. Pain,  _ pain _ . He tried to pull away, tried to move his arms. Stuck. Pain. Fingers caressed his cheek, but there was no comfort there. Blood. Choking on snot, tears. Cold. Shaking. 

“Thtop,” Sam slurred. It was the only safeword he had. 

Lucifer pulled out. 

    Sam sobbed. It was so much, and he was scared. He needed it to be over, but he wished it wasn’t. And he didn’t know if he’d survive it not being over, if it wasn’t. 

    The bed shifted as Lucifer crawled shakily up to the headboard and undid the handcuffs. Sam couldn’t get up the strength to move his arms, so his bloody hands just dropped onto the pillows. 

Sam whimpered pitifully as cold hands pulled his legs down to a more normal position. Open, exposed, but not pressed painfully apart and up. Cold fingers stroked gently up and down the top of his thighs. 

“It’s alright, Beauty. You’re alright. Calm down.” Lucifer’s voice was still torn with arousal, but it was gentle and soothing. Sam couldn’t seem to stop crying, though. 

Icy cold fingers loosed the blindfold, and he could see. Sort of. It was blurry and messy. Tears blocked his vision. 

“Lu?” Sam whimpered. He still felt helpless and so much hurt. Pain. Pain everywhere. And sticky, gross blood. Hard to breathe. Tears. 

“I’m here.” It sounded almost like a promise. 

A warm, damp cloth on his face wiped away snot and tears. More tears fell, but it felt good. Soothing. Gentle. Didn’t hurt. 

Cold hands pulled his left leg up. Open. Exposed. Vulnerable. Sam couldn’t hold back a fearful whimper. Helplessness was scary. 

“Shh. Shh. It’s okay, Beauty.” 

Sam sniffled. More tears fell. He was shaking. 

Cloth against his inner thigh. Pain. Blood was rubbed away. 

Sam sobbed. He tried to squirm away, but cold hands held him still. Icy fingers trailed across the wounds, and they healed. Flesh knit back together. Pain eased. Wet cloth wiped the last of the blood away. Hands pushed his leg back down and pulled the other one up. Fingers. Cold. Healing. Sam whimpered in relief. His wrists and asshole burned, but that was the extent of the pain that was left. 

Lucifer wiped the blood away and set Sam’s leg down, moving on to his wrists. He healed them the same way he’d healed the cut, torn flesh of Sam’s thighs. Sam flinched helplessly as Lucifer pushed both of his legs up and looked over his hole. He could move his hands, but he still felt like they were tied. He felt vulnerable, and with his legs open he was helpless. He couldn’t stop crying. He wished he could. 

Fingers against his loose hole. The cloth wiped the blood away, but there was no healing. Sam was going to feel that. A stroke of happiness pulsed through him at that thought, but it was weak. Not enough to stop the tears. Why couldn’t he stop crying? He tried, but he just cried harder. 

Lucifer wiped off Sam’s dick and cleaned the cum off his chest. He pushed Sam’s legs down. Cool hands ran soothingly along Sam’s sides and hips. Sam felt like a pathetic idiot for keeping crying. He couldn’t help it. Healed was good. Clean was good. Close to Lucifer was good. So why were his tears still falling?! Beating himself up about it only made it worse. 

Lucifer sat with his back against the headboard. He pulled Sam towards him and leaned him against his shoulder. Sam was still deadweight; he couldn’t convince himself he had power to move on his own. He  _ felt _ so helpless that he must  _ be _ helpless. Cold hands wiped away his tears. A tissue was held against his nose. 

“Blow, Sammy,” Lucifer ordered after a moment. 

Sam blew weakly into the tissue. It helped him not feel like he was choking. He was still shaking, and a few stray tears traced down his cheeks. “‘M sorry,” Sam mumbled weakly. 

“You shouldn’t be,” Lucifer said, sliding an arm around Sam’s shoulders, “Don’t apologize for telling me to stop when you don’t want something. And next time tell me before you’re a broken, flinching mess.” 

Sam’s lips trembled helplessly. “S-sorry,” he stammered. 

_ “Beauty.” _ Lucifer’s voice was somewhere between tender and annoyed. 

Sam was quiet for a bit. When he spoke his voice was small. “Can you kiss me?” 

Lucifer twisted to a better position and pressed his cool lips firmly to Sam’s in answer. The kiss was warm and dominant, with carefully controlled heat. Sam kissed back weakly. Cold lips. Chapped. Rough. Soft. Cold. A tongue flicked along the seam of his lips, so he let his mouth fall open. The kiss was deep and got increasingly hot until Sam was gasping and moaning. He couldn’t get hard again so soon after sex, or he would have. Lucifer was so  _ alpha _ when he kissed like that. 

Lucifer broke the kiss. He licked along Sam’s lips, then just stayed there, breathing the same air as Sam. “Can you tell me why you needed me to stop?” Lucifer asked. 

Sam considered that. “Couple reasons I guess,” he said finally, “It hurt. I like pain, but- it was a lot. Like helplessness, too, but the blindfold scared me, and that with the pain… It was fine with the pleasure, but the pleasure dipped down when I’d cum twice. And- and y-you- you wouldn't kiss me.” A tear fell. “W-why- why not?” 

“It wasn’t a conscious decision,” Lucifer said. His voice seemed cold. “I’d decided to be harder on you that time. I know you like pain and vulnerability to the point where you almost can’t take it, and that fits with what I want. But kisses go with gentleness. That isn’t what you asked for.” 

“I know,” Sam said, trying not to cry, “But- but-” 

“I’ll remember to kiss you next time,” Lucifer said. 

“OK,” Sam said meekly, dropping his eyes. 

Lucifer brushed tears from Sam’s cheek. “Your eyes are red.” 

“That’s what happens when you cry,” Sam sniffled. 

“It looks different on you,” Lucifer said, “from how it looks when other humans cry.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. 

“You’re always beautiful, but this is different. More. Tears are lovely on you, Beauty.” 

Sam wasn’t sure how to reply to that. His cheeks flushed a bit. He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, smiling helplessly. And there was the helplessness again. He was putty in Lucifer’s hands, helpless whether Lucifer was gentle and flirty, making him blush and smile, or harsh and cold to make Sam cry and flinch and tremble. Helplessness- Sam didn’t know whether he loved or hated it. 

Lucifer studied Sam’s downcast expression unhappily. He tugged Sam down to lie on the bed and lay beside him, covering them with warm blankets. Sam used Lucifer’s arm as a pillow, and Lucifer pulled Sam close with the other arm, leaving it wrapped around Sam’s waist. 

“Can I fall asleep?” Sam asked. 

Lucifer frowned at him. “Do you need my permission?” 

“Guess not.” Sam’s eyes closed. Lucifer held him tenderly as he slept. 

 


	13. Caring or Not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oo, chapter #13! My lucky number! And I have 111 (or eleventy-one, if you're from Hobbiton) kudos on this story now, wow! I don't think I've ever had that many. You readers are awesome.

This whole thing was so weird. Dean wasn’t used to the cute chicks he picked up in bars turning into evil angels and attacking him. He’d known there was something a bit familiar about those clear blue eyes; it was what had drawn him in in the first place. The girl had been beautiful, but clearly out of place and probably inexperienced, not what Dean usually went for. But he’d been more than a little drunk and loved her eyes. 

So of course Skylar turned out to be that stupid Cas guy who’d  _ dared _ to kill  _ Sammy. _ You didn’t do that! That stupid, damned, idiotic, straight up evil, blue eyed  _ monster _ . Temporary or not, he was gonna pay for what he’d done when he’d  _ murdered _ Dean’s Sammy. As soon as Dean could find a way out of the chains. 

Yeah, the bastard angel had knocked him out and chained him up, but he’d had the element of surprise. Next time, Dean would be ready. Nobody kidnapped Dean Winchester and tied him up like some damsel in distress. Nobody, not even a stupid angel with pretty eyes. A stupid angel he’d kissed…

No, it didn’t count. He’d kissed Skylar, some random girl. He’d never have kissed Castiel the angel. Cas was off limits. He was a guy, and an alpha like Dean. And he’d hurt Sammy, there was no coming back from that. Dean’d just have to get out of there and find a way to ice an angel. Yeah, that was a plan. 

..

..

Cold, it was cold. But warm, too. He thought that through. The blankets, he decided, were warm. He was tucked up against a cold chest, and there were cold arms around him. Cold meant Lucifer, so that was safe. He was good. He lifted his head, looking up. Lucifer’s intense blue eyes met Sam’s bleary hazel ones. 

“G’morning,” Sam mumbled, only half awake. 

“Early evening,” Lucifer corrected. 

“Huh?” 

Lucifer chuckled. “It’s not morning anymore, Beauty. Hasn’t been for a while.” 

“Oh,” Sam said. He yawned. “‘M tired.” 

“Go back to sleep, then,” Lucifer said, “I’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

“Don’ wanna,” Sam complained, “Keep me awake.” 

“I think I can manage that,” Lucifer said, leaning down to kiss Sam. Sam kissed back clumsily. Lucifer shoved his tongue past Sam’s unresisting lips and dominated his mouth. It was a hard, passionate kiss, and Sam loved it. But he still felt a little afraid. He didn’t know why, but maybe it had something to do with how far they’d gone before the nap. Lucifer pulled back for a second. 

“Pause?” Sam asked timidly. 

Lucifer rolled half off of him. “Yeah, Beauty? What is it?” 

“I feel nervous,” Sam admitted, downplaying his emotions because- because- he wasn’t actually sure why. 

“And why are you nervous?” Lucifer asked, brushing a few loose strands of hair off Sam’s forehead. 

Sam considered that. “Cuz last time hurt,” he finally said, “Is this gonna hurt?” 

Lucifer caught Sam’s hand and squeezed it. Sam squeezed back. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you, Beauty,” Lucifer said, “Last time I fucked you, I set out to push past your limits to see what you’d do. Cuz that’s something I needed to know. And I learned that you wait too long and hold back from saying ‘stop’, but eventually if I press too hard you will tell me. And that’s a bit of a problem.” 

“You were testing me?” Sam asked, irritated,  _ “Really? _ ” 

“Yes,” Lucifer said simply, “And I obviously needed to, because- tell me honestly, when did it stop being fun for you? When was the first time you wanted me to back off or even just quit doing one thing to hurt you?” 

Sam bit back an angry, defensive comment and made himself really think. “The- the first time you dug your nails into my thighs,” he admitted finally, ducking his head down to avoid meeting Lucifer’s eyes, “I wanted you to stop. It hurt too much.” 

“Oh, so, like, an hour before you first indicated in any way that you might not’ve been totally into everything I was doing,” Lucifer snapped. 

Sam flinched. “You don’t have to yell at me! It’s not like I wasn’t into plenty of the other things you were doing.” 

“But you weren’t into  _ that _ , so you should’ve told me!” Lucifer cried angrily. 

“I’m into milder scratching,” Sam argued, “It’s not like I like vanilla sex. I just- wanted more clear emotional connection, something soothing or gentle, while you did that, and then I would’ve been totally into it!” 

“Great!” Lucifer snapped furiously, “Next time, tell me that while we’re doing it! It’s not like I fucking gagged you or anything!” 

“Well maybe you should’ve!” Sam yelled, shoving Lucifer off of him, “Since you obviously don’t think I say the right things I might as well not be able to say a damn thing at all.” 

“I’m not going to gag you for  _ not _ talking to me enough,” Lucifer said angrily, “What a stupidly moronic human idea. Is your brain working?” 

“Oh, so now I’m a stupid moron for my species, huh?” Sam demanded, “Well, you’re the king of stupid, aren’t you? You’re the guy who was dumb enough to think he could win a fight against the creator of the universe!” 

“Don’t talk to me like that!” Lucifer hissed, eyes flashing red, “You know nothing! You’re just a broken, crying little mortal who can’t even be considered fully human. You don’t deserve to be in my presence, much less my bed!” 

“I’ll get off your fucking bed then!” Sam yelled, running out of the room with tears in his eyes. 

Lucifer stewed for a while, clenching and unclenching his fists. He finally stormed out, flying to the moon to smash in new pock marks. 

Sam had collapsed halfway down the corridor and was sitting against the wall sobbing. His knuckles were bloody from smashing his fist into the stone. His eyes burned painfully from crying too much, and it wasn’t long before he ran out of tears. He fell into a weak, uneasy sleep. 

_ Pain. Slicing, jagged, broken. Glass. Where even was the floor? He didn’t have the strength to stand. Cuts. Blood. Pain. The back of his pants tore against the jagged edges of glass. Pain. Cold, hard, empty pain. Hopelessness. Confusion. Tears. Broken glass. Everything was broken glass. Burning. Sobbing. Pain. Every kind of pain. Blurry, broken thoughts. Emptiness. Terror. Cold, empty terror. Cuts. His ass and thighs were slick with his blood. Blood. Blood on glass. Pain. Blurry pain. Emptiness. Nothing.  _

__ _ Everything faded, and a moment later he was sitting on an old motel bed. It was- normal. The pain was gone, the blood was gone. A lot of the despair was gone. There was a person Sam didn’t know standing across the room from him. He wasn’t human, Sam knew that immediately. And he didn’t fit.  _

__ _ “You’re not part of my dream,” Sam said. It took him a moment to realise what he’d said and that it was true.  _

__ _ “I’m very real,” the person said.  _

__ _ “Who are you?” Sam asked, “How are you in my dream?”  _

__ _ “I’m Castiel. I’m an angel of the Lord. Your dream was an easy way to contact you.”  _

__ _ Sam sighed. “What d’you want?”  _

__ _ “Your child must die,” Castiel said coolly.  _

__ _ Sam scowled silently at him.  _

__ _ “I have your brother imprisoned,” Castiel continued, “Go to a location I will give you, and I will free him. He won’t be injured or traumatized in any way.”  _

__ _ “No,” Sam said stubbornly.  _

__ _ “If you refuse, I will give you time to consider. At noon tomorrow I will begin torturing Dean. If you don’t show up by sunset, he will die. His soul won’t go to heaven. Dean will be in eternal torment, and it will be all your fault.” _

__ _ Sam stared at Castiel, eyes wide with horror. “You- you wouldn't.”  _

__ _ “I will do what needs to be done,” Castiel said emotionlessly, “Nephilim are abominations. They are not allowed to live.”  _

__ _ Sam’s eyes were glassy and overwhelmed by pain. “How do I know you even have him?”  _

__ _ Castiel was in front of Sam in an instant, touching his hand to Sam’s forehead. An image appeared in Sam’s mind. Dean, bound to a chair. His head lolled to the side, and Sam couldn’t tell if he was asleep or unconscious. Blood trickled from a small cut on his forehead. Castiel’s hand dropped, and the image vanished.  _

__ _ Sam stood there, frozen. He tried, desperately, to force himself to make some kind of decision or somehow get out of it. There was, in the end, only one choice to make. “I can’t let you hurt her.” Sam’s voice broke, but it was strong. Dean would get out of it, somehow. He always did.  _

__ _ “You would let your own brother die for an abomination?” Castiel’s voice twisted in disgust, and Sam flinched.  _

__ _ “She’s my baby,” Sam said, “I love her. I will never do anything that could hurt her.” _

__ _ “Dean is dead, then,” Castiel said coldly, “Pray to me and fall asleep, if you decide that your humanity and your brother’s life and soul is more important than Satan’s spawn and your damnation.” He was gone.  _

__ _ Sam’s hands shook. He collapsed backwards onto the bed, eyes empty and face whitened. “Dean.” It was a shaky whimper, nothing more.  _

Sam woke. His face was empty and his emotions were drained. He wandered the halls of Lucifer’s palace like a ghost. With no conscious thought his feet carried him to the dungeon where Gabriel was lying around bored to death. 

“Heya, Sammich!” Gabriel chirped. 

“Gabriel,” Sam said weakly. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Gabriel asked worriedly, “Luci dump you or something?” 

“N-no,” Sam whimpered, “He can’t have. He can’t h-have.” 

“Whoa, what happened exactly?” 

“I don’t know,” Sam sniffled, “W-we were fighting, and then it got messy and I left. I said some mean things, and he said mean things, and I don’t know who meant how much…” 

“Did he say he didn’t want you anymore or something?” Gabriel asked. 

Sam shook his head. “Well, sort of. He- he said I didn’t deserve him. He’s right.” Sam’s head dropped miserably. “And I ran.” 

“Luci’s probably off somewhere hitting large objects,” Gabriel said, “I wouldn't worry about it. He’ll come back.” 

“There’s another problem, though,” Sam admitted, “I dunno what to do about it.” He paused, not sure how to say what was happening. 

“You’re gonna have to be more specific and tell me what’s going on, kiddo,” Gabriel said, “I’m not a mind reader. Specially not in these cuffs.” 

“Angels can sometimes read minds?” Sam asked curiously. 

“No getting off topic,” Gabriel ordered crossly, “Random problem thingy that you don’t wanna talk about. Go.” He snapped his fingers at Sam. 

Sam almost laughed. And then he thought about what Gabriel wanted him to talk about and he didn’t feel like laughing anymore. “My brother’s gonna die,” Sam said, voice small, “I can’t stop it. Castiel is going to kill him if I don’t let him kill my baby.” 

“What level’s Cassie at?” Gabriel asked, “Cuz most angels aren’t impossible to take down, you know. You could fight him.” 

“I don’t know,” Sam said, “I just talked to him in a dream. And I don’t want to fight and risk hurting my baby.” 

“Then call Lucifer and ask him to save your brother,” Gabriel said. 

“No,” Sam said, crossing his arms. 

“No?” Gabriel asked incredulously, “Why the fuck not?” 

“I’m not going to run crying to him for help when he clearly doesn’t care at all,” Sam snapped. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t care, right.” He paused for a moment. “Hey, Luci, Sam’s upset and he needs your help right now. Come take care of your cute little human.” 

“What-?” Sam asked, “Don’t.” 

“Beauty?” 

Sam whirled around. “Lucifer. What d’you want?” 

“Is it too much to ask you to believe I was worried about you and wanted to help you?” Lucifer asked. 

Sam sighed. “Maybe. You were pretty clear you don’t care two cents about me.” 

“I care some,” Lucifer said, “I say stupid things when I’m mad. You are a little important to me.” 

“Some. A little. You know what, Luc? You can shove your pathetic attempt at an apology up your ass. I’m done. Come talk to me if you end up figuring out you care.” Sam stalked off. 

“You totally deserve that,” Gabriel said. 

Lucifer scowled after Sam. “It’s not  _ my _ fault he’s human.” 

“It’s your fault you yelled at him for being human,” Gabriel retorted, “You’re driving away the only person in the universe you actually like.” 

“OK, genius, how do I fix this?” Lucifer snapped. 

“Tell him you love him?” Gabriel suggested. 

“I don’t,” Lucifer said flatly. 

“De _ ni _ al,” Gabriel singsonged. 

“Shut up,” Lucifer said. 

“You’ll have to cut out my tongue if you want me to shut up,” Gabriel said. 

“What was Sam doing here?” 

“Worrying. Panicking. Trying not to cry some more.” 

“Now you’re just trying to make me panic,” Lucifer complained. 

“His brother got kidnapped, and he didn’t want to go to you for help,” Gabriel said. 

“Dean got kidnapped!?” Lucifer demanded, “Who by? And- why didn’t Sam tell me?” 

“Cuz you told him he’s stupid and you don’t care?” Gabriel suggested, in his you’re-an-idiot voice. 

“He didn’t believe me.” 

Gabriel just looked at Lucifer. 

“Ouch,” Lucifer complained, “He shouldn’t’ve believed me. I do care about him. Who wouldn't? He’s the only human I’ve ever seen anything positive in.” 

“OK, so go save his brother,” Gabriel said. 

“Location?” Lucifer asked, “Motivation for taking him? Kidnapper’s identity?” 

“No idea, to blackmail poor Sammy into killing your baby, and little baby Cassie,” Gabriel answered in order. 

“Wait, who?” Lucifer asked. 

“Castiel,” Gabriel said, “C’mon, you’ve gotta remember him. The fledgling who liked following Michael around? Had a glowy eye problem? No sense of how to follow a rule?” 

“Following Michael practically is following a rule, but- no. There were a lot of fledglings. They weren’t worth bothering with.” 

Gabriel stared at Lucifer in disbelief. “Weren’t worth bothering about,” he mumbled. 

“What?” Lucifer snapped defensively. 

“I know where your problems with Sam are coming from,” Gabriel said, “You’re the Tinman. You need a heart.” 

Lucifer stared at him.  _ “What? _ ” 

“What d’you actually care about, brother?” Gabriel asked. 

“My throne. Not following Dad. Human genocide. My baby. Taking over heaven. Sam. Sam’s happiness. Dad’s misery, if possible. Nature. See, it’s a long list. I care about tons of things.” 

Gabriel laughed miserably. “Lucifer, that’s awful. And Sam won’t be able to like you if you don’t straighten out your priorities.”

“I’ll enchant him, then,” Lucifer said calmly. 

“No, no, no, no,” Gabriel said, “Don’t you dare.” 

“I dare,” Lucifer said coolly. 

“Luce, you’re supposed to stand for free will, right?” Gabriel asked desperately, “What about Sam’s free will? Let him be himself. It’ll be even worse if you take his autonomy.” 

Lucifer sighed. “Fine. You’re sort of right. OK, Gabe, how do I make Sam like me again without taking away his free will?” 

“Gifts tend to help, so start by rescuing his brother,” Gabriel said, “And the next time you see Sam, say nice things to him. And for Dad’s sake don’t tell him he’s worthless and you don’t care about him!”

“That sounds reasonable so far,” Lucifer admitted. 

“Course it does. I’m always reasonable.” 

Lucifer just raised one eyebrow. 

“Fine,” Gabriel huffed after a moment, “Anyway, be nice to Sam. Help his brother, spend time with him, talk with him, try to build him up instead of tearing him down when you talk to him, and no yelling angry, stupid, destructive things at the poor kid. You’ve messed up his head enough as it is.” 

“I’ll try it,” Lucifer said, “And if it doesn’t work I’m blaming you, Gabby.” He vanished. 

Gabriel smiled weakly. He hoped this worked. 


End file.
